Rewritten
by roberre
Summary: Six months after the supposed death of the Witch, Oz begins to literally fall apart. Magic itself is being unravelled: the same magic that holds Scarecrows and Tin Men together. Musicalverse, Fiyeraba and Gloq.
1. Chapter One: Good Deeds

**A/N: This is my first Wicked fanfic! -gaspshock-**

**It was started even before my as-of-yet-and-probably-will-never-be-finished oneshot that turned into a threeshot... **

**And I hope you like it. The first few chapters are a little shorter, but they will get longer as time goes on. I have about 10 chapters written, but in order to give myself time to finish up the fic and not leave you with big gaps where I never post, I'm going to post one chapter a month, give or take. Except I'm starting off with two chapters, just for the heck of it. ANYWAYS, a MASSIVE thank-you to Fae2135 who is basically the reason this is at all readable. She's amazing, and she gave me the resources and help to make it happen. **

**Disclaimer: The usual, with fries on the side. -- If I owned this, I would not have to say that.**

Sleep was as elusive as ever. Once more it evaded Elphaba's grasp as she stared blankly at the high arched ceiling, dark eyes wide and unblinking. Her mind was clouded with exhaustion; the very stone above her seemed to writhe and twist with a life of its own, churning about to the slow cadence of her fevered thoughts.

Fiyero had insisted they flee Oz, but Elphaba couldn't bear to leave. After all, there was no place like home. Plus, life completely segregated from the only friend she had ever had was too much for Elphaba to even begin to fathom. At least here, she was in the same country. Elphaba missed the way Glinda spoke, how she would fill each syllable with vigor and life. The funny faces, the non-stop chatter, and the good natured sparring between the two of them were things she had taken for granted, even complained about, when they had been there. Now she was dreadfully sorry they were gone.

The green woman, perhaps in her mid-twenties, suppressed a shiver, even beneath the thick layer of blankets piled atop her. The secret passages beneath the castle of Kiamo Ko, Fiyero's 'extra' castle, were cold and damp, not at all ideal living quarters. Why was she there then? They were practical. Hundreds of feet above them, in the dungeon of the castle, a sizable museum was erected in celebration and remembrance of the passing of a certain Wicked Witch of the West… Elphaba's own death. The very thought was both repulsive and hilarious to her, but honestly, who would ever look for a dead woman, much less directly below her own grave site? Even at this hour of the night, Elphaba could hear the pacing of a janitor, dutifully cleaning up after the masses of people that passed through every day.

People were so blind. The gullible population had allowed themselves to be deceived that a man, whom they themselves had set atop the throne, was some sort of deity. She herself had believed that. But in fact, the so-called 'Wizard of Oz' was nothing more than a con artist, a despicable piece of flesh who would be better off in a cage than on a throne.

A wave of shame flushed Elphaba's smooth skin, soon followed by a sharp pang of regret which settled characteristically in her gut. The Wizard had crushed her dreams soundly. Not only had he betrayed her, but he had used her as a power source for his own sick devices. He was planning to destroy an entire race, a sentient race of Animals, who had inhabited the land as long as anyone could remember… and he had tried to get her to join him. Naturally though, when she had the gall to stand up to him, he had her reputation besmirched beyond recognition. In a matter of days, she had gone from a student of sorcery, attending one of the most prestigious schools of magic in the land of Oz, to a witch.

Sick at heart, Elphaba heaved off the downy coverlets. As she did on so many nights, she took to pacing the room. Her long black braid swayed gently with her gait. The tousled end of it brushed the small of her back, tickling even through the thick nightgown she wore. She silently padded back and forth, concentrating on nothing more significant than the gentle caress of the thick carpets beneath her bare feet. Perhaps after she had cleared her mind, sleep would come more easily. Every night she wondered the same, and every night thoughts continued to plague her.

She should have stayed in bed, but it was too late to return. Already the lingering body-heat would be sapped from her mattress, the linens returning to the ice-like state they had been in when she first slipped beneath them. Teeth starting to chatter, Elphaba turned her pacing in the general direction of the wardrobe. Throwing open the doors with an unexpected vehemence, Elphaba was confronted by a stark black array of dresses and cloaks. She had always worn such shades before because, as she had once so wryly announced 'she clashed with everything'. Now, however, it was out of sheer necessity.

For one thing, most of her expeditions were carried out at night. Elphaba had lived an adventure, warring against the corrupt Wizard in as many ways as possible. One person could make so much of a difference, but without the support of the people, it hadn't been enough. Every Animal she freed was only considered a rebel and insurrectionist, until the persecution against them was so bad that they almost wanted to stay in those cruel iron cages. Another reason, less well known, was that when Kiamo Ko had been given to Elphaba for her full use, Fiyero had also included the full use of anything there, including a large wardrobe full of fourteen different mourning dresses.

Fiyero's aunt, according to him, was a woman in perpetual grief over the deaths of her husbands, who seemed to be continually passing away under dubious circumstances. She had apparently insisted on purchasing brand new mourning dresses for each one of their funerals, using a small portion of the large fortunes they conveniently left only to her. She would wear them to said funerals, then never touch them again, Fiyero had sworn. So, as Elphaba wasn't exactly welcome in any of the local tailor shops, black mourning dresses it was.

Elphaba had always, as far as she knew, possessed a slight aversion to mirrors. Despite that, she had been unable to remove the full length one from inside of the wardrobe door for fear of damaging the beautiful wood. So, as she hurriedly rummaged through the large closet, she made every attempt to keep her focus off the reflection copying her every movement. She failed. The moment her dark eyes locked onto the mirror, she was fixated on it. Her gaze swept over her features, soon followed by her fingers, which deftly traced the contours of her sharply angled cheekbones and blunt square jaw.

She wasn't conventionally ugly by any means, but neither was she ravishing. Elphaba seemed to be just short of beautiful by a combination of minute features, rather than one specific trait. She didn't miss the mark by far, but she was just 'a little too much', of a few too many things. A little too tall, a little too…green. If a person remembered just one thing about meeting the girl, it would be that she was green. She wasn't green as a seasick person might be, tinged with the hue in a sickly way, but rather, like a froggy ferny cabbage, she was unnaturally saturated with the color. Even her nail-beds were green, albeit a lighter shade. Reluctantly, Elphaba closed the door, black knitted shawl in hand. She tossed it carelessly around her shoulders, clutching it to herself as if it were the only thing holding her back from total destruction.

To put it simply, the former 'Wicked Witch' was bored out of her mind. She just wasn't used to such a quiet existence. All her life she had been stared at, forced to deal with her obvious birth defect by using her wit and aptitude, or to make some other compensation. Every day was something new, some difference in day-to-day life. Now all she did was pace, and think. Maybe she just wasn't made to settle down, at least not in some dark abyss like the underground of the castle. It was worse, now that Fiyero was out on errands.

Subconsciously, Elphaba stalked the halls like a wraith, ending up in the room her beau had chosen for his own. Why, she had yet to discover.

The carpet here was much thinner and coarser than the one in her own room. In fact, it was hardly better than the rushes covering the bare stone of the halls. The cold seeped through the soft flesh of her feet and into her very bones. But it wasn't the temperature that sent a chill down her spine. This was the room in which she had condemned her love to life as a Scarecrow. A huge section of charred rug marred the already dreary room, standing as proof of her ill executed spell.

Messages scrawled in a furious glowing script shone from the stone like fire. Each clause served as a reminder of how she had nearly caved in to the condemnations of wickedness… nearly becoming wicked herself.

'All helpful urges should be circumvented.'

How could she have thought such a thing?

'Was I really seeking good, or just seeking attention?'

Elphaba cringed as each statement burned into her mind, casting doubt upon her already questionable motives.

'Is that all good deeds are?' They embodied all that was her past, and watching it rear its ugly head again was torment.

Why _had_ Fiyero chosen this room, when the displays of her frailty and anger were so evident on every wall? Perhaps it was because her love for him was evident as well. She would have been willing to commit herself to all of this, if only to save his life. And so she had, nearly. Instead though, she left the task unfinished, and had damned him to a brainless, shunned existence down here with her for what could draw out to all eternity. _Maybe_, a small voice in her mind taunted_, if you finished the job the _first_ time…_


	2. Chapter Two: Oz

**A/N: There IS a reason for Oz being here. It's not just for a moment of pointless drama. Honest.**

**I really don't have anything that intelligent or witty to say at the moment. xD**

**Disclaimer: The usual, with fries on the side.**

"Maybe I wasn't wrong about you after all, hmm, Elphaba?"

The sudden break in silence sent Elphaba's heart up into her throat. She twisted around, peering into the deep shadows that cloaked the hallways with a vengeance.

"Fiyero?"

"No, not Fiyero." Now that she heard the voice again, she knew it was right. Though Fiyero was brilliant at masking his voice, it definitely wasn't him. Whereas the Scarecrow's voice was rich and full, the speaker's tone was reedy. No matter what happened, even as he was being dragged out into the corn-field to be tortured, Fiyero always sounded confident, as if he was in complete control, and nothing could hurt him... which was true, now. The newcomer sounded almost dejected, though he had a certain edge of malice to his voice.

"You're right. So who are you then?" Elphaba wasn't frightened, though maybe she should have been. She knew well enough that no one in Oz could compare with her in terms of raw magical power. The air around her practically crackled with it.

"Not _who_ am I, but _what_?" The stranger stepped a little closer, and in the ominous orange light emanating from the sculpted walls, Elphaba caught sight of his strange attire. He (for it evidently was a male ) was dressed in a tweed suit and bowtie, with creamy-white pants and dark shoes. His face was still hidden in the darkness, but she could make out the shape of a stove-pipe hat perched atop his head.

Snorting her indignation, Elphaba tossed up her hands in a gesture of exasperation.

"What are you then?"

The answer was nearly inaudible, yet it hit her like a sack of bricks. " Wonderful."

Elphaba inhaled sharply, fists clenched until her nails dug into her palms. How dare he!" Get out," she commanded.

" Elphaba-"

"GET OUT!" Three steps forward, and her handprint was splayed across his cheek like a brand. She watched coldly as the former Wizard gingerly placed his hand over the stinging red mark she had left. Then he stepped closer. " You're lucky I didn't fry you on the spot, but you're really starting to push it, Wizard." She spat his name like a curse, a mixture of anger and pain in her unwavering gaze.

"Maybe I wasn't wrong about you, Elphaba." the wizened old man stated again, a little louder this time.

"What are you talking about?" demanded Elphaba, arms crossed. " I have little patience for riddles." Patience for anything had never been her strong point.

I told them you were wicked," the Wizard answered calmly.

"Well, you _were_ wrong then. Because I- I'm not wicked." Her voice caught in her throat a moment, but Elphaba soon recovered. This was _her _home, and he had no right to be there. She was the most powerful person in the land of Oz, and she wasn't going to let herself be intimidated by a small, insignificant old man. Who was he to be accusing her? By all means she should imprison him in one of his horrid metal cages. What sweet irony that would be.

"Aren't you?" the Wizard asked thoughtfully, flipping up an edge of the tattered rug with the toe of his shoe. Slowly he reached down to grasp the corner. With a single great wrench of his arm, the entire length of the stone floor was bared. In the same angry scrawl that covered the walls, the entire area previously concealed was filled with the clause 'Wicked, through and through.' The cavernous room was now bathed in a sickly orange glow. The great Oz stood in front of her, eyes accusing. In the fiery light coming from all over the room, he looked fearsome, like a dragon of old.

"No," Elphaba protested, resolve weakening steadily. She sank down to her knees, letting her lithe fingers run across the twisting letters. "No, I'm not," she said again, more firmly this time. "That's your department. Now leave." She straightened, rising to her feet.

To her surprise, the Wizard looked rather hurt at her comment, however well-deserved it might have been. His gaze flickered to the floor, silver-grey eyes locked onto his shoes as he began to shift his weight back and forth between his feet. Suddenly, the man stiffened.

"What's the matter _now_?" Elphaba inquired gruffly, her patience wearing thin. " The door is right behind you, so I suggest you use it."

"Yes, well," the wizard stated, pulling at his collar uncomfortably, "if you would call off your boyfriend..."

"Fiyero?"

Well, he certainly knew how to make an entrance. The green woman watched as the Wizard slowly rotated, Fiyero guiding him like a packhorse, with a gleaming knife pressed close to the major artery in the older man's neck. The two stopped when they faced sideways to Elphaba. Fiyero turned his head to give her a quick wink and a smile.

"In the flesh," he responded cheerily before adding, "Well, sort of." That was just like him, making a big joke out of anything and everything. Despite herself, Elphaba chuckled, looking past the sack-cloth face into his all-too-human eyes, still as emerald as her skin. The Scarecrow turned his attention back to his captive, chill seeping into his tone.

" So, your Ozness, to what do we owe the pleasure of you invading our home this fine morning?"

"I-" the Wizard started.

"Hmm, well that's very interesting. Now, when was it you were planning on leaving?" Fiyero interjected.

"I-"

"That soon? Well, I suppose if your mind is so firmly made up, there's really no point in arguing." Fiyero commented off-handedly.

"But I-" Oz tried again.

"Oh, it's really no trouble at all, my dear Wiz," Fiyero butted in yet again, " I would be thrilled to escort you out."

The Wizard was beginning to grow very red in the face, a stark contrast from his snowy white hair and moustache. Elphaba barely managed to suppress her laughter as a very amused Fiyero led a very unamused Wizard forcibly out of the room. Her dark eyes twinkled with mirth at the sight. Yes, despite the lack of a brain, or really any internal organs whatsoever, Fiyero was still the same jokester he had always been. He certainly wasn't going to let a little thing like being a Scarecrow phase him, oh no. Besides, it was the inside that counted, wasn't it? Elphaba was living proof of that.

Now that the other two were gone, Elphaba set about replacing the rug that Oz had disturbed. She grasped the edge, shaking out the thick dust, evidence that it hadn't been moved in a long time. The blasted thing was practically falling apart. She pulled her shawl over her face, wrinkling her nose.

"Oh, just leave it, Elphaba. A few more angry scribbles aren't going to hurt anyone. In fact, I think they quite add to the 'spooky atmosphere'. We should definitely hold all our torture of innocent Munchkinlanders here."

Shaking her head with a smile, the green woman placed her hands on her hips, and looked at him with an eyebrow raised. " You know, if you were any closer, I'd definitely have to kiss you." Her tone of voice was more suited to a threat of murder than a threat of affection, which only caused Fiyero to throw his head back and howl with laughter.

"Why do you think I'm over here by the doorway? I'm brainless, not stupid."

Elphaba gestured for him to move closer.

"Great Oz, no," he protested, waving his arms about as if to fend her off, " I'm in no mood to be kissed."

"Well then, you'll just have to suffer on my account," Elphaba stated with a sense of finality in 

her voice. With a gentle sweep of her lithe fingers, Elphaba drew Fiyero in towards her with a tendril of her powers. He didn't struggle all that hard, she noted with a degree of satisfaction, as she bent in to kiss him. His cloth skin was rough on her lips, and he smelled vaguely of damp straw. That all melted away as they stood there in each others' arms. Fiyero was Fiyero, regardless. After a moment, they pulled away from each other.

"Was that so bad?" Elphaba inquired breathlessly.

Fiyero gazed into her eyes for a few seconds, then smiled. " Horrible," he finally responded. " But even though you put me through that I am still going to have to give you the surprise I was planning for you."

"It's not another Wizard of Oz, is it?" the greened-skinned one inquired, referring to the incident just past. " Because I've had enough of him for one day, thanks."

"Decidedly not," said Fiyero, waving his hand as if to drive away the notion. He reached behind himself, and handed her a burlap sack. It was surprisingly heavy, and contained a large round object, though that was all Elphaba could discern. " It's his head."

Elphaba immediately threw the sack back at him, and wiped her hands on her black nightgown. "You're kidding," she finally managed to get out, eyes never leaving the bag.

"... and that would be a joke, dear." Fiyero raised an eyebrow, a grin surfacing on his face. The grin faded as Elphaba reached out and tugged sharply on one of the pieces of straw which protruded from beneath the tattered stove-pipe hat he was wearing.

"Ow!" Fiyero exclaimed, nearly dropping the 'surprise' on the floor. He clapped his hand to his head, and returned the scowl Elphaba was giving him. " That was my hair."

"Come on, Fiyero, that didn't hurt you..."

"No," he grumbled truthfully, " but it's the thought that counts."

"Okay, come on, give me the surprise now."

Fiyero narrowed his eyes, skeptically glancing from the sack to her. " Maybe I don't want to."

Elphaba rolled her eyes and snatched it from him, dumping the contents into her hand before he could protest. It was... a giant marble? The object was a large glass ball, solid, by the feel of it, and perhaps half the size of her head in diameter.

"Well?" inquired Fiyero expectantly, waiting for a reaction.

"It's... nice," Elphaba responded, turning it over in her hands. "Thank you. What is it?"

Fiyero had been busying himself with removing his outer coat while Elphaba was talking, but 

when she inquired as to its function, he paused, one arm in the navy coat and one arm out. " Ahh," he said mystically, " That explains it." He finished peeling his coat from himself and tossed it on the floor, adding his hat to the small pile. He now stood there in a pristine white shirt, straw sticking out from the cuffs and from the collar. His hair was also straw. Where once it had been soft and brown, it now stuck out in every direction, coarse and sharp. Gone were the days when Elphaba would rake her fingers through it.

"Explains what?"

"Explains why you're not ecstatic with joy over your new gift, that's what," Fiyero answered, placing his hands behind his head and beginning to pace the room. " So... you've never seen one of these before?"

" Never," Elphaba answered, " First time." She was puzzled, but she still stood straight, chin high, shoulders thrown back.

" Maybe I should explain then."

" That'd be helpful," she commented with a smirk, to which Fiyero responded by sticking out his tongue.

"They're communication devices," he began, " usually used by the army. They speak directly with each other, transmitting both pictures and sound by way of magic. As such, it's nearly impossible to intercept the message, as each has a pair. One only speaks to the other. Is that clear?"

"Crystal," Elphaba responded. " But who's at the other end?"

"That's the surprise."

"How do I find out?"

"You rub it." Fiyero said, shrugging as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Rub it?"

"Yes, like so." Fiyero gently took the ball from her, held it in one hand as he ran the other in a circular motion about the orb, then handed it back. The sphere hummed to life the moment it touched Elphaba's hands, glowing blue with such intensity that it nearly overpowered the orange overtones of the room.

"Does it always do this?" Elphaba inquired, staring at it with her nose about an inch from the surface. A thick layer of clouds swirled around the inside of it like a storm.

"Well, nothing happens until the other person picks up."

"By rubbing it." They both commented at once.

"Hey," Fiyero complimented, " you're beginning to catch on."

"How long does it take to work?"

"Well, once she answers, you'll know."

"S_he_?" Elphaba asked, turning from the sphere to stare intently at Fiyero's unreadable face. Before he could answer any more, a vague static was heard.

"Shh," he whispered, putting his finger to his lips. The fog parted like a curtain, and a familiar face came into focus.

Elphaba's breath caught in her chest as she heard an equally surprised voice squeal her name.

"Elphie, is that really you?" the voice asked.

"Yes, yes it is. I- it- I'm so glad to see you Glinda!"

And the face in the ball burst into a waterfall of tears.

"Surprise," Fiyero whispered.

**A/N: Oh yeah, I like reviews. 8D And I know you like reviewing. -cough-**


	3. Chapter 3: Celebrations

_Three days earlier._

"Fellow Ozians, we are gathered here today in celebration of-"For a moment, Glinda's voice caught in her throat. She pursed her lips and closed her eyes for a moment, blocking out the sight of the crowd amassed in front of her. There they were, from the white-bearded grandfather, to the babe still huddled in its mother's arms. They were all waiting for the same thing. With baited breath, they longed for her to announce a party for the event that had ripped her heart out.

She let the silence linger for a moment, unable to speak (the Munchkinlanders probably thought she was simply heightening the suspense), then cleared her throat. In the most upbeat tone she could muster, the ruler of Oz continued, "…in celebration that the Wicked Witch of the West is dead!" A cheer erupted from the people, and Glinda put her own hands together in applause as a plain white sheet was torn off a nearby statue, and an artist's rendition of the 'event' was unveiled.

The statue portrayed a triumphant looking Glinda, standing with a crooked witch hat in the foreground, and a familiar human girl with a bucket standing off to the side. Both the inside of the pail, and the floor around the hat were coated in a gleaming gold colour. It was a sharp contrast to the silver-grey stone the statue was carved from, and was definitely the focal point of the piece. Almost frighteningly realistic, the artwork was attentive to every detail, down to the individual creases in Dorothy's apron. It was perfect, except for one hairline crack beneath one of Glinda's eyes, a natural fault in the otherwise unmarred stone that the sculptor was forced to work around.

Though it was invisible to anyone more than a couple of feet away, he had apologized over and over again to Glinda during her initial review of the piece. She, as she should have, consoled him as best she could, commend the Munchkinlanders for his work and overall accuracy. Who was she to tell him that he was closer to the truth, with that one fault-line teardrop pouring from her eyes than with all the victorious poses in the world?

"Glinda!" one of the people before her shouted out.

She inclined her head, inviting the other to speak further.

"Show us the pose!" the same lady shouted, and was soon joined by a cacophony of other voices, all screaming in agreement.

"Oh, that old thing?" Glinda questioned, waving her hand as if to dismiss the very notion from their minds. "No, you really don't want to see that." The Munchkinlanders only cheered louder. The good witch scrambled for excuses, her mind reeling. "But, I don't have a hat," she protested. Within a few seconds, she was being bombarded with commemorative witch hats. What better souvenir was there for the six month anniversary of the Wicked Witch's death?

"Oh," she mumbled, "that's so kind of you all." So, checking the statue once more for reference, Glinda placed one of the hats on the floor of the stage before her. She picked up her long wand (this one was more like a thin staff, and rose nearly her full height) and set the bottom end of it 

down on the brim of the black, pointed hat, pinning it to the ground. She placed her other hand on her hip, lifted her chin defiantly, and stared into the throng, who instantaneously burst out into a deafening roar of applause that surpassed even their previous enthusiasm. Glinda picked up the hat, tossed it back into the masses, and spoke loud enough to be heard over the din.

"Let the celebrations begin!"

xxxx

It had been an exhausting day. Not only had she been up late for what seemed like eons before the actual holiday began, overseeing the finer details of the extensive celebrations and such, but the day had actually exceeded her expectations in terms of sheer emotional stress. And she had expected a lot of stress. Letting out a long sigh, Glinda sank into her favourite chair, hair falling haphazardly across her heart shaped face. Petite, blonde, and emotional, Glinda the Good hardly seemed the type to be ruling a country, yet time and again she had proven herself under fire.

Following the death of her best friend, she had rooted out the corrupt leaders and taken charge of the land. Despite a few minor details, such as the ever-increasing mountain of paperwork piling up on her desk, Glinda thought she was not doing too badly. Yet she was lonely. Oh, she was certainly popular as ever. That much was evident by the Ozians' reaction to her appearance at the carnival in the square of the Emerald city earlier that afternoon, but she had no real confidant. Both her best male and female friends were dead, and the only remaining figure from her youth was nothing more than an intelligent machine.

Glinda leaned back in her chair, letting her head hit the back of it rather roughly. Elphaba had been her best and only real friend, and the people had cheered when she died! The injustice of it all filled Glinda's eyes with hot, angry tears, and she shoved the stack of papers in front of her angrily to the polished wooden floor. The inkpot sailed down with them, shattering on contact. A large black stain pooled around the broken glass, soaking into the important documents it touched. She inwardly cringed, then rose from her seat to begin cleaning up her mess.

A sharp knock on the door sent her scrambling to her feet, heart in her throat. "Come in!" she shouted, using volume to compensate for the scare she had just experienced. Glinda's cobalt eyes widened at the sight of a very armed Boq who stormed in, aiming his rifle at every wall before entering.

"Are you injured, Miss Glinda?"

"N-no. Why would I be?" Glinda looked around confusedly. Had she really created that much of a disturbance? She stared upwards at the Tin Man, who had moved directly to her side, training his rifle at the shadows lurking in the corners. Dressed in the ceremonial uniform of the captain of the guard, Boq certainly looked intimidating, if nothing else. Having been an avid follower of Glinda during her Shiz years, not to mention his invulnerability, he had been the logical choice for the replacement captain, after Fiyero was dishonourably discharged and, well, executed, on account of treason. Boq had no heart, so his life was ruled by loyalty to Glinda, and to his country. He could not be bribed or blackmailed. The only concern, that he would put his own 

personal vendetta against Elphaba before his duties as captain, had been relieved six months ago, when a girl with a pail had become a national hero.

"I heard a crash," Boq answered, ushering Glinda out of the room as he spoke. "The others are on their way."

"Boq," Glinda placed her hand on his rock-hard chest, staring into his cold eyes with all the sincerity she could muster, "There's no intruder. I simply spilled a few things off my desk. I promise you that." She shuddered at the chill that seeped even through the thick material of his uniform, and then sighed. Promises meant nothing to Boq anymore, heartless as he was. He insisted on having the room thoroughly investigated, much to Glinda's chagrin. Then, and only then, was he satisfied. Well, at least he was thorough.

She never would have had to go through this with Fiyero. If she told him something, he would at least take it into consideration, if not follow her request to the letter. More importantly, to her anyway, he had been someone she could talk to when things got rough. He would be there with an encouraging smile, or a kind word, or some sort of joke about Madame Morrible; anything like that would have been a welcome change from the overly strict Boq.

Before his exile, as his last official act as Wizard, Oz had presented Boq with a false ticking heart, declaring that 'despite the injustice done' by Elphaba, the Tin Man was still a fully functional member of society, and shouldn't be denied the right of emotions. A heck of a lot of good that had accomplished. Either Boq was unable to feel, or he just refused to. Not even an obscene number of ticking organs were going to help either one of those two scenarios. Boq was still heartless, whether she liked it or not, so there was no use complaining.

One of the Ozian guards exited her office, fist-to-heart in salute to both Glinda and the captain beside her.

"Room secure," the guard reported, before falling briskly into line behind his platoon.

After thanking them all heartily, Glinda returned to her office, shutting the door with a roll of her eyes. "I could have told you that," she grumbled under her breath as she returned to the chair, sinking into it with her arms crossed in a huff. The rhythmic pounding of boots soon dissipated as Boq and his men rounded a corner and marched away. Glinda examined her office, noting with grudging respect that at least they had cleaned up for her. In the time they had taken though, she half expected to find her paper work done too Ahh, if only it were so.

The evening soon settled into an oppressive silence. There was no one to talk to, no one she could tell her heart's desires, her fears; no one she could trust. She was Glinda the Good, and everyone was either in awe or her, or too dumbstruck by her exaggerated reputation to really see that she was just an Ozian like them. She was just a woman, not a goddess.

Glinda closed her eyes. Celebrations still raged across the city, and their effects were heard, even in the depths of the palace. Music, cheers, and the whine and crash of launching fireworks 

shattered the hush, but soon proved to have their own lulling effects. She soon drifted off to sleep with their muted cadence pounding in her ears.

_Glinda and Elphie were sitting on the edge of the former's bed, peering out he window at the green rockets bursting like jewels across the horizon in celebration of the Wizard's birthday. Soon enough they were speeding towards those starbursts in the sky, the lights blurring together and warping to form an exact likeness of the Emerald City. The celebration was fiercer here, almost cult-like. The fevered expressions of the Munchkins burned into Glinda's mind as the swirled around in some sort of ritualistic dance. The pale green light cast eerie shadows on their jeering faces._

Suddenly the Wizard appeared on a platform, floating high above the crowd. Though she couldn't hear what he was saying, a shiver ran down her spine when he pointed his finger right at her. His gaze seemed to bore into her heart. The people turned, eyes a fiery red as they advanced on her and Elphaba. Full buckets sloshed filthy, almost black, water as they swung from their clawed hands. "KILL HER!" they screamed, "She's wicked!"

_Glinda threw herself in front of her friend, arms outstretched so as to block her from the onslaught. "No! She's not! Listen to me!" Suddenly, a hand on her shoulder made her turn, and Elphaba was looking at her with the utmost pity in her dark eyes. _

"_Not me," she whispered. "You."_

"_What?" Glinda's eyes widened and she saw that the other was right. The Munchkinlanders thought _she_ was wicked. "N-no, that's not right! I- I never did any- Elphie, tell them I-"_

_But Elphaba was already walking away, slipping through the crowd. She rose on currents of air to stand at the Wizard's side. _

"_Elphie? Elphaba? What are you-"Glinda's voice faltered, as the Munchkinlanders continued to advance. She cried her friend's name louder and louder, but the only help Elphaba would offer was a single tear cascading down her solid green cheek._

"_Please, no…" she pleaded, hot tears pouring out of her eyes. A searing pain nearly split her head, and when Glinda the good put her fingers to her cheeks, she found that her tears had literally melted trenches through her skin. She screamed, almost oblivious as her assaulters hoisted their buckets. The last thing she heard before the water struck was Elphaba._

"_She's dead," the other shouted loudly, "Let the celebrations begin!"_

_The seething liquid struck with a hiss of steam. Blackness engulfed her…_

And she sat up in her chair, hand on her heart. Hair haphazard, eyes wild, the good witch stared around her office. She wasn't wicked. She _wasn't._ Glinda pursed her lips, choking back a sob at the callous indifference Elphaba had shown. Even if it was just a dream, it still hurt more than she could express. She had just stood there, while Glinda had _died_.

Oh, sweet Oz.

Glinda staggered out of her chair, collapsing to the floor. She wept bitterly as her senses returned to her, and she realized the full extent of her actions towards her best friend. What had she done? Glinda should have died with her, rather than act as she had. She was the one who really deserved such a fate. Not Elphaba; never Elphaba. Glinda didn't even bother to look up when the soft footsteps and the gentle creaking of her door alerted her to the presence of another.

"Oh Boq, please just go away. There's not an intruder," Glinda sniffled, never moving from her crumpled heap on the floor.

"Boq? What's he doing here?"

Glinda wrinkled her brow, looking up. The stranger was swathed in shadows, face obscured beneath a large, somewhat triangular hat.

"Who are you?" Not that it mattered. She deserved whatever would be coming to her. Oz would find a new ruler, one who would keep up with the paperwork, and she would be nothing more than a pretty face on a statue. She didn't care. Much. She hung her head again, and then sighed. "What do you want?"

The stranger slipped a rough but warm hand beneath her chin, lifting her head until their eyes met. He took off his hat, smiling. "Recognize me now?"

"Great Oz," Glinda exclaimed, flying to her feet so fast it made her dizzy. " Fiyero?"

**A/N: Sorry I was a few days late with this. I have an ear infection. P**

**But... reviews might make it better? Heh?**


	4. Chapter 4: Boq

It wasn't easy being 'The Good' all the time. Once in a while a body needed a bit of fun - a bit of anything other than this infernal paperwork. Glinda ('The Good') set her quill down, ignoring the large black stain it began to leak onto the table. With a low groan, she placed her fingers to her temples and let her head fall down onto the unnaturally large pile of papers lying in front of her on her desk. Mercifully, the ink had dried almost instantly.

It had been almost six months since she had seized power from the corrupt wizard and his equally reprobate secretary, and it was beginning to show. Well, maybe not, Glinda reasoned - she looked quite as good as ever thank you very much - but she could feel the stress and boredom begin to tax her. Even one such as herself, so stuffed to the brim with girl power and so well endowed with magical ability, couldn't handle it _all_. It was especially difficult without a best friend _or_ a best fiancé at one's side. But she was over that now, of course.

In fact, she was thrilled that Fiyero and Elphie had each other. Ooh! Ooh! Maybe they'd even get Glinda herself to conduct the wedding ceremony! Maybe she'd wear pink. Maybe they'd _all_ wear pink! Because pink went good with green.

Of course, that would only take place once she found a way to clear their names without starting a bloody revolution. All the Munchkinlanders and most of the Ozians still viewed Elphaba as the wickedest witch to ever live, and Fiyero was nothing more than a promising young captain who threw away his life and became a traitor to the Wizard and everything good. And yet, if Glinda tried to tell them the real story, that would mean she was saying the Wizard, who was practically a god, was wrong. That would effectively brand her a traitor also, and start a revolution between those who believed her and those who didn't.

In any case, wouldn't the two look handsome together? Elphie in her… green, and Fiyero all, Scarecrow-y. For a brief moment, she wondered what the children would look like. Glinda sat with a start, emitting a sharp 'eep!' as her momentum carried her off balance, tipping her chair backwards and spilling her to the floor.

"Miss Glinda, are you all right?"

Scrambling to her feet, Glinda performed her famous hair flip, flicking it out of her face with a precise gesture of her head. She moved on to smooth the wrinkles out of her sky-blue ball gown, and was just about to pick up the large, high-backed chair off the floor when the gleam of metal preceded the immanent arrival of the captain of her personal guard.

Boq stood perhaps a head taller than Glinda. He was not overly broad, but instead, wiry, with long powerful limbs and a slim physique. He possessed the stance of a soldier, chest forward, shoulders back.

"There's no intruder?" Steely grey eyes flickered around the room, deep set in a sharply angled face. Everything about him was sharp. Though his facial features remained nearly identical, and were still easily recognizable as the Shiz student of yester-year, there was little of the former Boq. Any boyish feature had been chiselled and tempered into harsh masculinity. The sharpness of his jaw line and the emotionless eyes left an impression of stalwart loyalty and straightforward determination. Boq lived for duty, and duty alone.

"No, of course not," Glinda said hastily, chuckling and looking around. "I was, uh, just practicing my self defence." She shot what she hoped was an innocent looking smile in his direction, picked up the chair, then delivered a sharp chop to the back of it, sending it spilling to the floor once more. "Ow." A sharp pain shot up her arm. She shook her hand rapidly, clutching it to her stomach. Well, at least that cleared up the issue of why she needed practice. Glinda needed to remind herself not to do that again.

Boq stared at her for a minute, expressionless grey eyes meeting her own sparkling blue ones. If he were anyone else, he probably would have questioned her reply, but as it was, he simply nodded in a very brusque, military way. Slowly, he bent over and picked the chair up for her. Without another word, he saluted, the back of his tinny hand just brushing the top of his gleaming black hair. It was cut short, but its now -wirelike consistency refused to be tamed, so, just like in his youth, the front of it stuck up from his forehead.

Glinda felt a touch of remorse as he made his way to the door of the cluttered office, for two reasons. One, she had never shown any respect for him when he professed his feelings for her way back when he was well… normal, and two, she had forgotten to clear a pathway to the door through all the reports and clutter.

"Boq?" she called hesitantly. When he turned, she smiled softly at him, and said, "Thank you." He nodded, then turned on his heels and exited. Glinda's heart sank down into her stomach as she saw no emotional response whatsoever in his face. Maybe it _was_ too late to make amends.

He was taller than she remembered. Ever curious to prove herself right, Glinda made her way to the nearest bookshelf. She tugged an abnormally large book from the bottom shelf, then plopped it down on her desk, coughing at the cloud of settled dust that drifted into her face. She cracked it open, flipping casually through the Shiz University yearbook, until she came to the page she was looking for: a group photograph of History class set just after the end of the first set of horrific exams. Somehow Boq had managed to avoid being clumped together with the other academic overachievers and was lurking quite happily beside Glinda. So, peering intently at the detailed portrait of the somewhat younger and less metallic Munchkin, Glinda compared it to her mental depiction of the present-day captain.

Yes, he was definitely taller now.

The Boq of Shiz was not altogether ugly, apart from his evident lack of fashion sense, but he wasn't a Fiyero either. Still, it seemed strange that she had so shunned him. Then again, she was a different person now. She had learned a lot about bigotry since her college years. Boq's hair had been an unsightly mix of colour-not fully blonde, brown, or red, yet somehow managing to contain a little of each. It was trimmed neatly, falling flat over his head, with the exception of the front, which stood up like a wall. He was clean-shaven, lips curled upwards in a familiar shy smile. He had a straight nose, which curved gently upwards at the end, and expressive grey eyes. That was perhaps the biggest difference about him now. Now those eyes were empty.

Glinda started to close the book, then quickly changed her mind and leafed through the book until she found an all-too-familiar face grinning back at her. Oh yes, she still had it. Looking at the bright blue eyes, the golden curls, and the absolutely amazing figure lurking beneath her favourite pink ball gown, the portrait brought a sudden sense of solemnity. Was that all she had cared about back then? Until she met Elphaba, it had been. She had been so wrapped up in herself. Well, not anymore. A few more pages over, and there sat Elphaba, books in her arms, staring at the camera with a forced smile on her face, eyes flashing in defiance. Her look seemed to say that she wished she wasn't green, but it certainly wasn't going to stop _her_.

Glinda slowly closed the book, and replaced it on the shelf. She let her hand linger on the spine, remembering the good times. Going to parties, practicing magic, being popular in every way… well, maybe, she realized, life hadn't changed that much. She had changed, through, and that was what mattered. There have been no way in Oz that she could rule a country a few years ago, but look at her now. Everything was turning out all right, at least now that she had Elphaba back.

Glinda strode over to a storage chest at the other end of the room. She bent down and creaked it open, shoving the old papers out of the way to reveal a glass ball perhaps three times the size of her fist. Clutching the object to her chest as she manoeuvred herself about to her comfortable chair, Glinda lowered herself into it, and vigorously scrubbed at the ball with her sleeve.

She noted vaguely, before the fog lifted, that her usually heart shaped face was distorted to grotesque proportions. Would _everyone_ look like that if the world was round? What an interesting notion.

"Glinda?"

"Hi Fiyero. Where's Elphie?" Glinda turned the ball around in her hands, trying to peer around the Scarecrow form of her ex-fiancé into the room beyond.

"Sleeping." He answered simply, rich tenor voice gravely with sleep… or lack thereof. "Speaking of," he offered with a yawn, " shouldn't you be doing likewise?" Though his straw hair lacked the wave, texture and colour of the natural stuff, Glinda noted that he wore his hair quite stylishly, slightly long, and combed over his head in a very 'swankified' manner. His words, not hers.

"Oh, you know, with the paper work and all that, I hardly have time for sleep anymore." She stared sternly at Fiyero as he rolled his eyes.

"I'm definitely thinking-"she continued, " that I should have asked the wizard for some tips before I sent him packing. It's not easy being the leader."

Fiyero shifted his weight, licking his lips nervously at the mention of the wizard.

"Yeah, bad idea, I know. Anyways, do you think I could talk to Elphie? Please?"

" She might not be pleased if I wake her…" Fiyero protested.

"I know that." Glinda retorted, waving her hand to dismiss Fiyero's comment. "After all, we _were_ roommates. PLEASE, Fiyero?"

Glinda's pleading eyes brightened immediately as Fiyero started towards Elphaba's room, knocked on the door, and waited. Thanks to the blue glow of the orb, Glinda had full view of the exhausted looking green woman who opened the large door leading to the bedroom, along with the sudden blur of the orb when Fiyero all but threw it into her arms. Elphaba's face came in and out of focus as she stumbled with the sphere, but she finally got her bearings and spoke.

"Glinda?" she asked, and then continued before the other could answer, " Do you have any idea what time it is?" Elphaba's voice was soft, a bit deeper than Glinda's, and she would recognize it anywhere.

Glinda beamed. "I'm sorry about that Elphie, I really am. I just needed to speak with you."

Elphaba stared back at Glinda like she was insane. "Is something the matter?"

" No, nothing like that," Glinda chuckled off-handedly, "I just missed you."

Elphaba rubbed her eyes, wavering on her feet. "You called me at this hour because you missed me? Couldn't you miss me at a normal time?"

"Yeah, Elphie, but-"

"You spoke to me barely an hour ago," the other reminded gently.

"Well, er…" Glinda searched for an excuse. After a moment of chewing on her lip, she came up with the absolutely perfect one. " I just forgot to tell you something last time."

" You did? We did speak for an awfully long time."

" I'm coming."

Elphaba paused, brows drawing together, her confusion visible even in the dim light of the orb. "Coming? Where?"

" Kiam- I'm coming to see you, of course!" It was a good thing Glinda had caught herself. Earlier on, she, Elphie, and Fiyero had mutually agreed to not say Kiamo Ko, in the rare event of someone spying. Speaking that name could prove disastrous, even under the best of circumstances.

"What? No, Glinda, you can't."

Glinda's heart sank. "But why not?"

"Well, you have duties. won't it be kind of suspicious for you to just up and leave? Won't people wonder? What if you're followed?"

Glinda held up her hand, cutting Elphaba off. "Don't worry, Elphie, I won't let anything happen to you. Or to me," she added after a second.

"Won't Boq want to know where you're going?" Elphaba asked? Over the past three days they had been in contact, Glinda had pretty much spilled every ounce of news to Elphaba, who had been more than happy to listen, having been cut off from society for months.

Glinda frowned, tapping her chin. "Well, it isn't like you can come here, Elphie."

"Don't I know it," the other responded, now moving to sit on the edge of her bed.

"How about if I plan it in advance? Maybe I'll come in a couple of weeks. I'll get caught up on my paper work, set up some sort of temporary replacements while I'm gone… that would certainly be acceptable, would it not?" Of course it was. Glinda was the ruler of Oz, after all. It wasn't like she had anyone to report to. Except for… all of Oz.

Elphaba smiled, looking too tired to do anything else. "Yes, Glinda, that would be amazing. It'll at least give me time to get another room suitable for living in."

"Oh, don't worry, Elphie. You know me, I'm a trooper. I'll sleep anywhere."

Elphaba burst out laughing, her tone sharp, almost a cackle. "Glinda, you were awake an entire night once because there was a lump in your pillow." Her comment was ignored thoroughly.

"I can't wait." Glinda said softly, her heart pounding in her ears. It would be so good to see Elphaba again… to really see her again. Communication orbs were good, but they just weren't the same. "I'll start preparations in the morning."

They both whispered their goodbyes and Glinda watched in silence as Elphaba rubbed the orb, closing the line of communication.

After returning everything to its place, Glinda waded through her papers, and threw open the door of her office. Smiling, she took in the grand scale of the hallway. It never ceased to amaze her. It continued on seemingly forever in both directions, the stone a grey that was nearly white, with high arched ceilings and intricately designed patterns on the capitals of the carved half-pillars which jutted out symmetrically from the otherwise smooth walls.

The general public was only admitted into less than half of the grand palace, that section easily identified by the emerald colour of everything in view. However, here in the interior restricted areas, the surrounding was sculpted out of white and grey marble in order to break the monotony of such a vibrant city.

A caretaker on a high ladder changed the glowstones in the ornate candelabras hanging from the ceiling, wearing thick gloves against the heat they exuded. The stones were efficient at lighting and warming the building during the cool spring weather. Their light carried a slight orange tinge, but their endothermic summertime counterparts, soon to be installed, shone a pure white.

The Munchkinlander on the ladder tipped his cap at her as she passed, which she returned with a soft smile and a curtsey before hurrying on to her destination a few branches down. (The lesser hallways were called branches, because it sounded much more official.) As she was making her way, Glinda caught sight of a figure in the navy uniform of the guards, evidently Boq by the silver tone of his skin. She called to him, and was soon staring up into his face, trying to find the right words to say.

"Well, Boq." A good enough way to start, she supposed.

"Yes, Miss Glinda?"

"Boq," she said again, " I know I can never really make up for all those times I ignored you, and called you Biq, and generally scorned you, and sent you off with Nessa, and disregarded your feelings for me… and, well, what I'm trying to say is - I'm sorry." Glinda bit her lip, and stared at the floor, shuffling her high-heeled shoes in the uncomfortable silence.

"Will that be all Miss Glinda?."

" You don't hate me, do you Boq?" she burst out, grabbing hold of the sleeve of his finely tailored coat as he turned to leave.

The Tin Man turned, and for a moment, Glinda was sure she could almost see a sad smile in his eyes. "I could never hate you Miss Galinda."

"Glinda," she corrected automatically.

"Pardon?"

"I- It's Glinda," she whispered softly, eyes nearly tearing

"My apologies." At that moment, any feeling in Boq's eyes vanished, leaving Glinda more about to burst into tears than ever. She cursed herself inwardly, over and over.

"Will that be all?" he asked.

Glinda looked over him, then touched the golden braid at his throat. "We really need to change that to silver. It -" her voice faded off into near silence for a moment, but she cleared her throat, and finished, "–clashes."

"Yes ma'am. When would you like that done?"

"How about tomorrow morning? Why don't you see if you can get the tailor to do something about that, hmm? And if he gives you any qualms about 'traditional Ozzian garb' or 'being too busy', tell him I send my gratitude for his hard work and loyal service, and that if I'm pleased with his work, I'll buy my next gown from him." Gathering whatever shreds of confidence she could, Glinda flipped her hair again, sending the golden curls which prettily framed her face cascading around to her back before coming to rest with a gentle bounce on the top of her shoulders. She wasn't going to cry. Definitely not. It was only the exhaustion creeping up on her, of course.

Boq pounded his fist to where his heart should have been in a salute, his hollow chest echoing with a resounding boom, reminiscent of a peal of distant thunder. Glinda stood there for a moment, eyes locked onto his supple leather boots, then dismissed him with a curtsy.

By the time she found the branch she wanted and followed it to the end, Glinda was nearly dropping from the fatigue that had finally overtaken her. She stepped out onto the veranda, a flood of green invading her vision. The emerald colour was visible despite the muted lighting, which was pouring from half-moon and other various sources throughout the city. Pulling her ornately designed wand from mid-air ( a trick she was very glad to know, as it saved lugging the thing around everywhere), the ruler of Oz drew the tip around herself in a wide circle. When she finally pulled the carved snowflake tip away from the glowing outline in the air, she was instantly encased in a large bubble.

Giving her still winter themed wand a flick- Glinda made a mental note to replace the head with a more seasonal floral design- the bubble rose and began to float rapidly towards the dark horizon. The scenery around her faded into blurred streaks as she picked up speed. She was heading home.

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews and story alerts, etc. last chapter guys! It really made my day/days. And thanks for the get well soon reviews. My ear is feeling much better, and I'm quite healthy. Yay! -waves flag- Anyways, in the spirit of me being horribly impatient, I decided to post this a few days earlier. Who knows, the more inspiration I get (-pokes little review button in the corner-), the faster I can write, and the more prepared I will be to post the next chapters earlier. **

**Mini-spoiler: Glinda gets to go on a 'secret mission' next chapter. Exciting! But be warned... lots of stairs. -nod- **


	5. Chapter 5: Covert Operations

**A/N: Well folks, here it is. Glinda's 'secret mission.' Enjoy!**

It wasn't often that Glinda got to go on a mission, especially such a covert operation as this. She had people to do that sort of thing for her. Unfortunately, that meant that before now, she had never realized the sheer exhilaration of it all. All the lurking around, the flitting from shadow to shadow, and the oppressive silence, all of it just gave her a kind of mute tingle all the way down to her toes. It also wasn't often that Glinda dressed in black, but now that she thought about it, the colour quite complimented her eyes. The darkness of her clothes just brought out that forget-me-not blue colour so well.

So here she was, crouched outside Kiamo Ko like a wraith. The castle loomed far above her, a harsh and ominous silhouette against the twilight horizon. Glinda was supposed to be waiting for Fiyero here, beneath a giant Quoxwood tree not yet in bloom. The cool wind stirred a few golden tresses, which had escaped the confines of her tight black hat. She hastily stuffed it back in. It wouldn't do to be discovered by the sheer radiance shining from her absolutely perfect hair.

"Psst! Glinda?"

"AHH!" Glinda started, placing her hand over her heart. "Great Oz, you scared me, Fiyero!"

"Sorry. Where are you?"

"I'm by the Quoxwood tree. Where are you?"

Glinda heard a soft chuckle. "I'm _in_ the Quoxwood tree," came the unexpected reply, now recognizably from above. "Where exactly are you? I can't see you."

"Well," suggested Glinda offhandedly, "look down."

Apparently Fiyero did, as he let out an enlightened 'Aha!' and soon descended rapidly along with a large number of broken twigs. He landed spread eagle on the ground with thud.

"That was very graceful," commented Miss Upland with a discreet smile, which she quickly hid behind her black gloved hand.

"Yes, well," muttered Fiyero as he stood and brushed himself off, "not all of us can arrive by bubble, can we?"

Glinda made a face. She ignored Fiyero's subsequent cheeky grin, and gestured to the castle. "And how, pray tell, are we getting up there?" Kiamo Ko was built amidst rocky crags, almost inaccessible during the winter months, and hardly easy to reach even in the best of times. If not for the large number of volunteers who had been working to widen the steep, curving path upward, there would probably be a body count of more than just Elphaba's attached to the castle.

Now though, since it had opened up as a museum, throngs of Ozians swarmed up the steep road every day. From the rich in their fancy carriages (pulled by the fashionable 'horses of many colours') to the poor with their babies in their arms, each trekked upwards, enjoying the tribute to 

Elphaba's death from the convenient hours of nine 'till eleven. However, Glinda and Fiyero weren't taking _that_ path, heavily guarded as it was.

Gulping loudly, Glinda looked up, and up, and up to the stairway to which Fiyero had brought her. There seemed to be no end to the black, stone stairs that rose before her.

"Some of these go nearly vertical!" Glinda complained, getting little more than a nod of agreement from Fiyero.

"Now do you see why my family lives in the other castle?" he inquired.

Glinda turned slowly towards him, mouth agape. "I thought you were joking," she muttered.

"Hey, I told you it was true," Fiyero countered, before shaking his head with a smile and starting up the stairs. Glinda took her first step upwards and moaned loudly. "Don't worry," he assured her, "one down, only an impossibly large number to go!"

"So why can't we just bubble in there? I'm sure there's room for both of us… or at least me," she added under her breath.

"Elphaba spelled it," Fiyero answered frankly as they climbed, "It wouldn't do any good to have witch-hunters transporting into our home all at all hours, would it?"

"Well, what about just skipping a couple thousand steps?"

"No good," Fiyero replied, still plodding evenly up the steep stairway.

"Why?" Glinda asked, her legs starting to burn as the solid ground slipped further and further below.

"Can you land your little bubble contraption on a winding rocky path no more than three feet wide?"

Glinda opened her mouth, and stared at Fiyero's back in an attempt to come up with an appropriate answer. Failing, she shut it with a clack of her teeth. "Is there any way to get there more quickly?"

"Yes," Fiyero stated. "Walk faster." And with that, Glinda's hopes and dreams crumbled.

By the time they reached the top of the long, steep cliff, Glinda could no longer feel her toes or fingers, and the muscles in her legs burned like fire. Her eyelids were half shut with the fatigue that had finally caught up with her now that the initial adrenaline rush of her 'mission' had worn off. Despite her black hat, her ears were going numb in the early morning air of the mountainous hills Kiamo Ko was situated on.

Now Glinda wasn't exactly the most athletic of people in the first place (hah! What would Elphie have said in response to that?) Not that she didn't have the ability- oh no, she was perfectly capable- but she had always managed to find herself involved in some more pressing engagements. Basically, she did everything possible to avoid physical activity. She just wasn't the 'sports' type. She was who she was, and she was dying.

"Oh, Fiyero," she panted, doubled over as she gasped for breath, "it's nearly dawn. Can't we stop for just a minute?"

"If you stop you'll never get going again. Plus, we're almost there," the Scarecrow added, pointing just ahead of him to the looming grey walls of the castle.

"I can't-"

"Yes you can, come on."

"We've been walking for hours," she reminded him with a whine as she staggered up a few more steps, nearly ready to collapse.

Fiyero, already at the top, offered a hand down to her. The gesture brought his face painfully close to her own. She froze in her ascent as her gaze automatically rose to meet his, and she stared into his emerald eyes. For a moment, she saw him as she had at Shiz, handsome, stunningly handsome even. Now, however, there was something new in his eyes. A sort of intelligence lingered there (definitely a sign of being Elphaba-fied), along with a sense of contentment, and happiness. For just one aching moment, Glinda caught herself wishing, ever so slightly, that he could be hers once more.

"What is it?" Fiyero asked, hoisting Glinda up the final steps, "Do I have something in my teeth?"

"No. It's just," she scrambled for a valid excuse, then finished lamely, "your eyes are green. I'm just glad that you two match so nicely." Glinda could tell that Fiyero didn't believe her for a clock-tick, but that he instead attributed her answer to her very pungent exhaustion.

What were these thoughts that were coming from her mind? Fiyero loved someone else. His heart belonged to an intelligent, sharp-tongued, very green woman by the name of Elphaba Thropp, and, well, Glinda just wasn't that girl. Sweet Oz, she didn't want to take Fiyero away from Elphie any more than she wanted to climb this hill.

"Boq?" Glinda called out.

"Boq?" Fiyero turned back around to face Glinda, hands on his waist, and eyebrow raised in interrogation.

"Oh, I- I meant Fiyero," she apologized promptly, putting on a winning smile. "Silly me."

" Well, I told Elphaba I'd get you down there in once piece, and that means mentally too, so just try to hang onto your senses for a few more minutes until I fulfill my vow, and then feel free to go completely bonkers."

"Thank Lurline," muttered Glinda, staring up at the solid rock walls before her, " it's nearly over."

"And you'll be duly rewarded," Fiyero assured her, " a nice bath, a steaming meal…" He paused as if to add something else, then shook his head, "Well, I hope you weren't expecting much else, we _are_ in hiding you know."

Glinda giggled. "Oh Fiyero, you always manage to cheer me up," she commented, smiling widely at him as they followed the thin, winding patch along the side of the castle.

"Really?" he inquired.

"Well… no," Glinda admitted. "I'm still pretty mad at you for dragging me up those stairs."

"You lied to me?" Fiyero clapped his hands over his heart in false shock, wavering as if struck and nearly toppling off the edge into thin air.

Glinda grinned wider now. "Only verbally," she reminded him, "and don't you dare fall off, because I am not waiting around for you to climb back up, do you hear me?"

" Yes, Your Goodness," Fiyero responded, pouting like a child. He then leaned against the wall in a rehearsed 'Woe is me' pose and pushed the lever with his elbow to open the way to the underground passages. "After you," he offered.

Glinda took one look inside the twisting labyrinth, and stared at him unwavering. " Not on your life," she growled.

xxxx

Elphaba Thropp was growing restless.

The small clock on her wall showed the time to be nearly dawn, and Fiyero had left just after the last stroke of midnight. Those stairs were ridiculous, true, and she knew he had forgotten (again) to take her broom with him for ease of transportation so he would be forced to climb, but wasn't five hours pushing it just a little? True enough, it would have probably taken the better part of an hour and a half just to descend, and Glinda was rarely on time for anything, but Elphaba's patience was waning fast. Not that she had ever been renowned for possessing the virtue in any great amount.

She had taken to pacing about an hour ago. It was something she did quite often, as it felt more comfortable for her to be moving about as she thought. This time however, as she made a pass by the door, Elphaba heard the distant echo of voices.

" We're almost there, Glinda." As Fiyero's voice resounded through the halls, a sweet relief filled Elphaba. She knew he was a Scarecrow, and therefore practically immortal, but it was hard not to worry… especially when she had nothing better to do with her time. It was ironic, really. All her life she had dreamed of having a normal life like everyone else, but she had never realized that it would be so mind-numbingly boring.

" You've been saying that for the last two hours," Glinda complained loudly.

" Time is of little consequence when you're just dancing throu-"

" Oh, don't start that again!"

Elphaba grinned at that. The footsteps grew louder, and in one fluid movement, the green girl stepped behind the wall situated directly beside the doorframe, effectively concealing herself from the view of the hallway. She could hardly wait until her best friend arrived. It had been a long time, after all.

The door beside her creaked open, with Fiyero stepping in, closely followed by Glinda, who looked dead tired.

" Where is she?" Glinda inquired, clutching Fiyero's sleeve for support. Elphaba had walked up those stairs before, so she didn't doubt the sincerity of her exhaustion.

" Well, it is quite early, so she might be sleeping still," Fiyero answered, using his torch to light the corners of the room.

" I thought you said she didn't sleep much," Glinda reminded him, rubbing her eyes. " Speaking of which," she said, stifling a yawn, " sleep sounds pretty good right about now."

" Well, in a place like this, it might take hours to find her, so why don't I show you to your room, and send her over shortly?"

Glinda started to protest, but evidently thought better of it, as she could hardly keep her eyes open. Fiyero turned to lead her down the hallway directly opposite Elphaba's position, conveniently turning their backs to her.

Silently, she crept across the room, making hardly a sound as she neared Fiyero and Glinda. She couldn't help but feel just a little wicked as she drew herself up to her full height behind her friend, gave her a quick tap on the shoulder, and yelled "GLINDA!" as loud as she could.

The reaction was even better than she had anticipated. Glinda jumped nearly six inches, with a loud shriek. Yet, halfway through her expression of terror the 'good witch' burst out into tears of joy upon recognizing Elphaba, and clung to her so tightly that Miss Thropp thought her ribs would crack.

"Elphie! It's you, it's really you! Oh Elphie!" Glinda was stronger than she looked; Elphaba could hardly breathe.

"Ow," she managed to sputter out.

"Ow? That's all?" Glinda looked a little hurt as she stared up at Elphaba.

"Yes, well, it's difficult to give a proper greeting while being suffocated," Elphaba explained, smiling and returning the embrace once Glinda eased up on the pressure crushing her ribs. " It's good to see you again, Glinda."

They just stood there for nearly five minutes, silent except for Glinda's occasional quiet sobbing. A moment later, only when the blonde's dead weight was being fully supported by the greener member of the pair did Elphaba realize truly how tiresome a day the other had experienced. Glinda was sound asleep.

**A/N: Thanks for reading. Remember, the little blue 'review' button is your friend. Right? Right? And thanks to everyone who have already reviewed the other chappies. ****8D Anyways, I just have one request. I have lots of story alerts, but not that many of you are reviewing. Could you maybe just drop a little note every so often so I can get your two-cents? Just to see how you like it, what your thoughts are, etc. If it's not too much trouble. **


	6. Chapter 6: Explanations

"Elphie?"

Elphaba swallowed a bite of the ripe, juicy fruit she was holding and glanced from her breakfast to her friend. "Yes Glinda?" she answered.

Glinda didn't respond. Obviously something was bothering her."It's just, well, it's not important anyway. Nevermind."

Something was definitely bothering her. Unless truly concerned, Glinda had never been hesitant to complain (often loudly) about her misfortunes and predicaments. Puzzled, Elphaba decided not to push the matter as the two polished off their breakfast.

"This is a nice room," Glinda stated after a long, awkward silence.

"Mmhmm," Elphaba agreed. In fact, this room was her favourite. Roughly oval in shape, its defining attribute was its ceiling. Painted to look like the sky, it featured a large, metal mesh globe, which was filled with evenly placed sockets for glowstones and had a small door in the side to access the interior. Essentially a large chandelier, the sphere lit up the room like the sun it was created to resemble, providing a constant source of warmth and light.

Below, the room served as her library and sitting room. The walls were lined with shelves of books, and what space there was visible had been carefully constructed to give the illusion of sitting in a wide-open field, hedged in only by the bookcases that Elphaba had diligently filled. Just being in such a room as this took away nearly any feeling of captivity. In short, it was a pleasing prison.

Today, though, she was restless. Having Glinda here, a reminder that there truly was a world still existing apart from her own, awakened a sense of discontent with her surroundings. She didn't want painted walls anymore. A globe just wouldn't do. Elphaba longed to feel the sun on her skin; she wanted the breeze in her hair, and the grass beneath her feet. She longed for the freedom she had lost.

"Elphie?"

Elphaba set the rind of her fruit down on her place and wiped her face neatly with the cloth in front of her. "Yes?"

"Why…" Glinda trailed off, refolding and smoothing the napkin on her lap about four times before continuing her sentence. " Why didn't you tell me that you were still alive? I mean, no offense, but it wasn't your brightest move. I don't even know right now if I should hug you, or hate you for it."

Elphaba had expected this question, and had even thought through what she was going to say. However, all her premeditated answers completely deserted her at the display of emotions her friend was experiencing directly before her eyes. Guilt gnawed at her gut as she glanced to her plate, her eyes refusing of their own will to meet Glinda's pleading stare.

"Glinda," she began, " I wanted to tell you. I really did."

"Then," asked the other, a little accusingly, "why didn't you?"

"I-" at the worst time, the premeditated answer returned, "it was better for everyone."

"Better? Elphie, how could it possibly have been better?" Glinda rose from her seat, put her hand over her eyes, and began walking around the round table that held their meals. She was evidently attempting to contain her emotions, and failing. "You don't know what it was like!"

"It couldn't have been easy," Elphaba muttered, watching with quiet intensity as her friend spoke her mind. Whatever Glinda said, Elphaba probably deserved it.

"It wasn't," agreed Glinda, not yet ready to sink back down into her chair. "I mean, I never ruled a country before. Sure, I dabbled in politics at school, playing everyone off everyone else, but that was different. Here, I was really alone. I guess you do understand _that_, but… oh Elphaba, half the time, I don't even know what I'm doing.

"I try to do what's best for all of Oz, but there are so many different roads to take, and more than one of them lead to revolt and revolution. Everyone either loves me or hates me, worships me or plans to assassinate me. I'm either Lurline or damnation incarnate." Glinda paused for a moment, and returned to her chair, a smile playing on her lips. "Who am I to say which one's right?" She cleared her throat, and continued. "Mostly everyone's scared of me, in some way or another. There's the most outrageous amount of paper work, and worst of all, there's absolutely no one to talk to… except for Boq, and a whole lot of good he is." Glinda trailed off, and Elphaba chose that moment to cut in with an inquiry.

"Boq? How is he involved?" She hadn't expected to hear much of him, after the initial shock of a completely metal man had worn off the populace.

"He hates you, you know," said Glinda.

"I can't say I exactly blame him," Elphaba offered.

"So, logically, he's the captain of the guard now. But we'll discuss these things later,_ my _troubles are much more pressing." Elphaba grinned at Glinda's words, a gesture that her friend returned cheekily, before becoming solemn once more." Elphie, you were- well- _are_ the only true friend I've ever had. All those times I needed you, and you weren't there."

It seemed to Elphaba that she was never there when the people she loved needed her most. At least one of those people had never forgiven her.

_"You fly around, saving Animals you've never even met!" Nessarose screamed at her, pointing an accusing finger. "But you never once thought to use your powers to rescue me!"_

_"Nessa, I-"_

_"All of my life, I've depended on you. How do you expect me to react? My entire existence, you've taken care of me, and then the moment you find some old spellbook, you desert me! I'm stuck here in this stupid chair with wheels…drowning in other people's pity. I want to walk, Elphaba, but you've been too busy playing Wicked to notice."_

_"It's not as easy as that, Nessa. Magic isn't just 'abracadabra'. It's complex. There isn't a spell for everything. It's not like cobbling up a pair of… wait…" Elphaba pulled the Grimmerie from her satchel and threw it to the ground, flipping through the pages with record speed. Her dark eyes flickered from the book, to Nessarose's shoes. This just might be the answer. A smile growing over her features, she began to chant._

_"Elphaba, what are you doing?" Nessa demanded, leaning forward in her chair to glance at her sister's actions. "What are you doing to my shoe- ELPHABA!" Nessa squealed loudly, her voice shrill with terror. "My shoes, they feel like they're on fire! What have you done to my shoes??"_

_The spell was finished. Elphaba ceased her chanting and looked expectantly to the now-ruby slippers, which had started to glow furiously. Nessa, eyes wide, clung to her chair as her feet, with a will of their own, moved to the floor. She stood, nearly falling a few times, before she took her first step._

_Finally, Elphaba thought gleefully, I've done something good._

But it hadn't been enough. Nothing had ever been enough for her.

"You would have known what to do, Elphaba. You always do. You could have even kept up with the paper work…" Glinda trailed off, sniffling.

"There's that much of it, huh?" wondered Elphaba, offering Glinda a handkerchief to dry her tears. However, the other girl had already found her own somewhere in the depths of the pink ballgown she was wearing, and was in the process of blowing her nose loudly.

"Worse than Shiz," Glinda confirmed, sobbing freely now.

Elphaba rose, and wrapped her arms around her friend. "I understand if you hate me," she said, "most people do."

"Elphie, I could never hate you. You do realize, however, that you did a most horrendible job of answering my question."

"I did, didn't I?" Elphaba realized with a scowl. Come to think of it, she had done pretty much everything except give a straight answer to Glinda. What were the motives behind her not telling Glinda? She released her friend from the embrace, and stared at the cloudy ceiling. The gears in her brain turned like mad before a reasonable answer finally made way through her mouth. "I didn't tell you," started Elphaba hesitantly, "because I didn't want you to get hurt." She ended that in perfect truth.

"Hurt? How would that work? I already promised that I wouldn't clear your name."

"Think about it Glinda," Elphaba never thought she'd have to ask that much of her friend… but times had changed, after all. "What if you had newly acquired the throne and were caught talking to me? Nobody would have trusted you enough to be able to make excuses. You'd be deposed at best, and banished or even killed at worst. You needed to be able to prove to everyone, that you could rule before the threat of the Wizard retuning was fully gone."

"Now, my people know how to handle things when I'm away. I practically am the wizard these days… In fact, they'd probably take me over him even if he did come back. Pink would beat an ugly moustache any day."

Elphaba smiled. Glinda had caught on more quickly than she had anticipated. Apparently, ruling the country did a body good.

"There were just so many things that could have gone wrong. Fiyero and I just had to decide what would be best for everyone."

"So," inquired Glinda, "why the change of heart? I mean, I'm here now." She gestured around to prove her point.

Elphaba put her hands together in a round of sarcastic applause. "I'm so glad you noticed," she quipped.

Glinda shot her a distasteful look, which Elphaba chose to ignore, and commanded, "Just answer my question."

After thinking for a long moment, Elphaba came up with the only appropriate answer there was. "I decided to put my own interests above everyone else's." she confessed with a shrug.

"So you were selfish for once?" Glinda translated, her face unreadable.

Elphaba nodded, then stepped back a foot or so when Glinda sprang from her seat, bawling louder than ever into her handkerchief. "Oh Elphie, I'm so glad you were selfish."

Elphaba pondered her situation for a brief moment, then burst out into a teary eyed grin. " Me too," she agreed. "Forgive me for waiting so long?"

Glinda latched onto Elphaba in a repeat of the previous night's bone jarring embrace, then muttered, "I'll think about it."

Which meant yes.

xxx

Elphaba knew Glinda was there probably about five minutes before she decided to let on about it. Miss Upland of the Upper Uplands hadn't had much opportunity, so high up in the world, to practice sneaking. It was evident she was trying, but the fundamental basics of stealth, such as silence, seemed to have evaded her. High heeled shoes, a frivolity which Elphaba had never indulged in, were apparently ill suited for sneaking. Still, when she felt Glinda leaning on the back of her chair to get a look at the book she was reading, Elphaba decided it was time to break her best friend's aspiration of a successful spying.

"Glinda," she greeted, rather impassively.

Startled, Glinda drew back from Elphaba's chair with vehemence and began looking around the room in a sore attempt to dissuade her friend that she had been reading over her shoulder. "Ohh, Elphie! How - uh - how are you this fine morning?" she responded skittishly, taking a few even steps over to where her friend sat.

For all her lack in stealth, Glinda certainly knew how to move nicely. Even out of the corner of her eye, and not really paying attention, Elphaba could discern that Glinda's movements were fluid enough to be mistaken for floating, if one were dense enough not to know that it was a biological impossibility for Glinda to float… plus, she still hadn't mastered silence of footfalls, which gave the entire charade away.

Elphaba flicked her dark gaze back to her book, and gave a soft grunt as an answer to Glinda's question. Elphaba didn't waste any energy doing anything else, when she was reading.

"Good? Oh, that's wonderful to hear."

Elphaba glanced up from her book again, a look of profound amusement on her face. "Since when? Come on Glinda, don't try and fool me with the 'innocent and formal' routine. What is it you wanted to ask me?"

"Well, you see," Glinda stepped sideways so that she was somewhere behind and beside Elphaba at the same time. She flicked her sparkling blue eyes down to the book, and inquired with a vague gesture, "What are you reading?"

Amusement turned to surprise on Elphaba's face, though she quickly hid it beneath a mask of indifference. "A book," she answered dryly, snapping it shut with a resounding boom and quickly hiding the cover and title with her lithe green arms. Turning her face towards Glinda, Elphaba pierced her with a gaze of absolute innocence.

Glinda was clearly vexed. She struggled to keep a frown off her face. "What about?" She inquired, making a snatch for the book.

Elphaba shifted it just out of her reach and then spoke, still guarding her treasure on her lap. "Don't get me wrong, I'm absolutely thrilled that you asked, but when did you start caring about books?"

Glinda checked herself, opened and closed her mouth, then froze. "Good question," she muttered, and promptly began fumbling for excuses. "I mean, I'm not that interested… but the letters were pink on the cover, and uh- it's probably boring anyway. I assure you, it was purely an attempt at self-preservation. I'm about to die of boredom. What else is there to do around here?"

She would have continued, had not Elphaba cut her off with her next comment. "Do you still want to know what it's about?"

Glinda glanced around, probably checking that Fiyero was nowhere to be seen (she did not want to risk possible blackmail, apparently), then sprang nimbly into the comfortable chair directly opposite Elphaba. "Do tell."

"Well," started Elphaba, setting her round reading glasses down on the small table beside her, " it's called 'Beauty and the Beast'."

"Never heard of it," Glinda interrupted.

"I can't say I'm surprised, though Fiyero did snatch it from your bookshelf."

"The one in my office? Oh, most of those are just old books the Wizard brought from his land of whatty-hoosits on his balloon. I never thought anyone would actually read them."

Elphaba shot Glinda a slightly irritated look. "Do you want me to go on, or what?"

Glinda clapped her hand over her mouth, as if to demonstrate she would not talk any more, and nodded mutely.

"Well, anyways, it's about this girl. In order to save her elderly father, she exchanges places with him as prisoners of a terrible beast. He seems cruel and heartless, but soon reveals his tender side, and the two begin to fall in love. However, it turns out he was a prince turned who was into a beast as a punishment for past crimes, and only has a certain length of time to find his true love before he's doomed to be trapped in his feral state forever."

"Sounds very romantic," sighed Glinda wistfully. "Let me guess, as soon as he and the girl kiss, POOF! He's back to Mr. Handsome again, and they all live happily ever after. Am I right?"

With a grin, Elphaba nodded. It was quite refreshing to see Glinda excited about something other than clothes for once. "That's the general idea of it, yes."

"Read it to me?" Glinda asked, curling up into the chair and making herself altogether quite comfortable.

The question took Elphaba aback. "Now?" she asked, looking somewhat perplexed.

"Why not?" Glinda responded with another question. "Nothing better to do." She was right enough on that point.

"I'm nearly at the end," she remarked, unsure what to make of the entire situation. The day Glinda took an interest in books was the day, Elphaba had thought, nails became sentient and people started talking to grapes. Or, Nails and Grapes, she supposed. In any case, it was ludicrous.

"That's fine." Glinda waved off the protest, and closed her eyes, whether because she was tired, or to better envision the words of the story, Elphaba wasn't sure. " Just read."

Elphaba gaped, exaggerating the expression. "Who are you and what have you done with the real Glinda?" She demanded sarcastically.

Glinda, the real Glinda, opened one eye and bored a hole through Elphaba, metaphorically speaking. She spoke quite forcefully. "Just read, won't you? Oh, and don't you dare tell anyone about this. Anyone."

Elphaba placed her hand on her heart and returned Glinda's glare with a faux hurt look, as if to communicate that she would never dream of such a thing.

Glinda shook her head, rolling her eyes, and pointed to the book. "Read. Now."

Finding no alternative but to comply, Elphaba cracked open the book and leafed through the pages until she found the spot where she had left off. It was, as she had said, rather near the end. She slipped her glasses on, cleared her throat, and began to read. As she did so, the words seemed to come alive, transporting her to a distant land, so familiar, yet so very different from her native Oz. The emotions pouring from this book were so raw, so immensely powerful, that it nearly brought Elphaba to tears at once point, and Glinda didn't stop blubbering from the very start. The author, though evidently from an alien world, knew well how to connect with his readers. Perhaps even more so with Elphaba, who not only connected to the Beauty, but to the Beast as well.

"… and they lived happily ever after. The end."

Elphaba shut the book, stood up, and placed it directly upon one of the many bookshelves lining the walls of her library. A sharp sound made her whirl around, and place her scrutinizing gaze upon Glinda, who was blowing her nose loudly, evidently touched by the story. When catching site of Elphaba, Glinda shrugged, and muttered, "I never knew books could be so engaging." It was a big breakthrough for her, apparently.

Elphaba threw up her hands in exasperation. "And what have I been trying to tell you for the past however many years?" After a moment, she added, "Goodness!" just for good measure.

"Yes?" Glinda responded cheekily.

"Goodness was not directed to you," Elphaba chastised lightly, sticking her tongue out at Glinda's impertinence. Sinking back down into the chair, the green girl succumbed to the thought which had been eating away at her since the third-to-last chapter. "Oh, if only breaking a spell was that easy," she sighed, referring to the end of the story, in which the prince had finally escaped his bestial form by way of kissing his one true love. If that were the case the world would have been short one green woman, and one Scarecrow ages ago.

"Speaking of spells," commented Glinda off-handedly as she folded her handkerchief, "I've been meaning to talk to you about something."

"Okay," Elphaba said simply, putting her feet (clad in her familiar combat-style boots) up on the footstool in front of her, and folding her arms behind her head.

"Remember when you invited me to join you as a hated outcast and traitor to the throne?" Glinda paused to grin in a not-so-innocent manner at Elphaba's annoyed glare before becoming serious and continuing. "Remember how you said that together we could be unlimited?"

Elphaba nodded, then inquired, "What about it?"

"Did you really mean it?" Glinda asked hurriedly. "Truthfully. No fight we cannot win, dreams the way we planned them… all of it?"

"Of course I did, Glinda. I still believe we could do pretty much anything we put our minds to." What was she getting at? Elphaba's interest in this conversation was growing by leaps and bounds, though her still relaxed posture may have suggested otherwise.

"Elphie," stated Glinda with a sense of finality, "let's find a way to get Boq and Fiyero back to their old selves."

Elphaba went to say something, but was floored by Glinda's next comment.

"And, let's degreenify you."

Pulse quickening, blood pounding in her ears, Elphaba felt her hope rise. She soon squandered such a feeling, however, and refused to get excited. She couldn't bear seeing her hopes and dreams squashed again, so it was simply better, in her opinion, not to have any. At all.

"Glinda," Elphaba started, her voice nearly catching in her throat, " I appreciate the thought, but there are a few minor problems. One: we don't even know why I'm green in the first place, so how are we to find the proper spell to cure it?" She paused, looking on, perplexed as Glinda's gaze was rapidly averted to the floor and she blushed. After a moment, Elphaba continued. "Two," she said, holding up the corresponding number of fingers, "you're only here for a couple of weeks."

"I can extend my vacation," Glinda countered.

"Three," Elphaba said firmly, "you know as well as I do that the spells from the Grimmerie are irreversible."

With that, all recognition vanished from Glinda's eyes. She frowned, deeply, for once, and stared at Elphaba at a loss. "Grimma-what?"

Elphaba just blinked at her. "Grimmerie."

Glinda shrugged, the expression on her face mirroring her evident internal confusion. "I'm not following you," she apologized.

"In what way?" Elphaba demanded, temper rising. This was not funny.

"How am I supposed to know what that Grimmawhatever is?"

"This isn't a good time for joking around, Glinda. After all, you were the one who brought up this discussion."

"Elphaba, I'm not joking. You don't have to get upset."

"I- I'm not upset." A slight tremor in the floor that matched the one in her voice belayed Elphaba's statement. She was far beyond upset. "But do you mean to tell me that you don't remember the Grimmerie? The most powerful spellbook in Oz?"

"That's exactly what I mean to tell you," Glinda said, looking at Elphaba with an apology dancing in her eyes.

"It was the cause of- everything!" breathed Elphaba, her words hardly audible. Her hand gripped the armrests of her chair, and her posture no longer displayed relaxation, but anxiety of the strongest sort. "It's the reason why Fiyero, Boq, and Chistery are the way they are. It's why Nessa's shoes were magic. It's why my broom flies. For goodness' sake, we wrote a ten page report on it for our sorcery seminar. Glinda, please don't tell me you've forgotten somehow!" Elphaba was pleading now.

"I'm sorry, Elphie, I- I don't know what to say."

Elphaba put her face in her hands, and exhaled loudly, trying to dispel the sense of sheer impossibility about the matter. Never in her wildest imaginings had she thought that something this bad could happen, and the problem was, she didn't even know what made it so bad. There was just… a foreboding about it, settling in the pit of her stomach like a lump of lead. Something about this just screamed of wrongness. She had no explanation. And that, for her, was one of the worst feelings in the world.

**A/N: Sorry if you read this before I fixed the italics problem. It WAS correctly configured on my Microsoft Word, honest! but it seems it didn't translate into very well at all. oO' Anyways, yeah. **

**Oh, and despite being at risk for sounding desperate, please review!**


	7. Chapter 7: Unexpected Developments

Puzzled, Elphaba had fallen back on her old habit to aid her thought processes. Jaw set in determination to find some plausible answer to her pressing dilemma, she paced back and forth along the expansive hallways of her underground habitat. She had kept the true depth of her agitation masked for the entire remainder of the day, only letting it through the façade of outward indifference now that Glinda was asleep.

The question was a simple one: Why could Glinda not remember the Grimmerie? That single spellbook had been such an integral part of the recent years of Elphaba's life that she didn't think that she could forget it if she tried. Yet, here, Glinda had obviously managed to do just that.

The question pulled her mind in all directions, tossing it about like a stranded vessel amidst a tumultuous ocean of possibility. One question led to another, a constant stream of frustration. Three questions became ten. Ten led to fifteen, and so they went, all without answers in view. There had to be a cause of Glinda's memory lapse. How did it happen? When? Why?

It was then, only when Fiyero spoke in response to her mutterings that she realized she had spoken the last word aloud. However, she ignored him, and continued her almost frantic pacing until she ran straight into the Vinkus prince, who blocked her path with the easiest thing available: Namely, himself."Why what, Elphaba?" He said again, placing his hands firmly on her shoulders and scrutinized her from arm's length.

Elphaba stared at his chiselled sackcloth features for a moment before tossing up her hands in frustration. "Glinda doesn't remember the Grimmerie." She felt exasperated and helpless as she stared up at him.

Fiyero stood there from a moment, silent. He looked her straight in the eyes, searching intently for something. After a moment, his brows drew together in confusion. He placed his hands on his waist and shrugged. "And…?"

Elphaba's world seemed to reel. Although she had been nearly positive she had thought out every possible scenario in these long hours of discontent, she had most certainly not seen this cruel twist of fate. Surely, Fiyero of all people hadn't forgotten! Not when he was living proof of the book's existence.

"Fiyero, are you telling me that you don't recall the existence of the Grimmerie either?"

"Unfortunately, yes, that is exactly what I'm saying to you. Perhaps though, if you were to refresh my memory a little, I might recollect this Grim-thing you seem so aggravated about."

"Nothing against either you, or Glinda, but it's hardly a thing to be forgotten."

"What kind of non-forgettable thing is it, exactly?" Fiyero wondered aloud.

"It's a spellbook. An extremely powerful one at that. I pretty much constantly carried it about, since the moment I liberated it from the Wizard. Ring any bells?"

"Elphaba," said Fiyero, shaking his head, "you've been carrying big ugly books under your arm from the moment I met you, and according to my sources- yes, I have sources –since before that, too. Am I really expected to remember this particular one?"

'YES!' Elphaba wanted to scream. Instead, she just looked away, and tossed up her hands once more, this time in defeat. "I guess not," she lied, unable to say any more because of the growing lump in her throat. She folded her arms, and resumed her pacing.

Fiyero looked a bit worried now. "So, what made this book special from the others?"

At least he was trying. "If you don't remember it, then don't worry about it."

"Are you sure you're remembering things right? I mean, if no one else - "

"I'm not crazy, Fiyero!" Elphaba said. After a clock-tick, she let out a breath, and turned to face him. "I'm sorry, you didn't deserve that." She approached him, and closed her eyes, leaning her head against his chest as he embraced her.

"I trust you Elphaba. If you think this thing is important enough to warrant it, why don't we go searching for it, hmm?"

"What if we don't find it?"

"Then we don't find it. If worse comes to worse, though, I might know somewhat who could be able to help," he said, whispering in her ear.

"Really?"

"Now, I'm not promising anything. We might not even need to go see him."

"Who? And what about me being dead… remember?"

"Yes, well," Fiyero cleared his throat, "he already knows that you're alive… in fact, he popped in a few weeks ago."

Elphaba's eyes popped open in shock. "Oh no. No, no, no! There's no way I'm asking 'The Great and Terrible Oz' to help me. Not a chance." She stared defiantly up into his face as she spoke, determined not to give ground.

"It's your choice," Fiyero said. "Plus, this is all hypothetical. You might find your answers before we go, and he might not even know anything anyways." He smiled at her, green eyes twinkling.

Elphaba's long constructed resolve melted within the moment.

"Well," she could only manage a pitiful attempt at an excuse, "how will we find him?"

"Before I tell you that, you need to promise to stay calm."

"Calm?" Elphaba's pride was somewhat wounded by that statement.

"Yes, calm. That means no screaming, cackling, sending me into involuntary convulsions, or the like. Also, under no circumstances will you wake Glinda up. I'm very fond of my head." He grimaced and rubbed his throat.

"What did you do this time?"

"Ah!" said the scarecrow, holding up his hand in warning. "Promise!"

Elphaba glared her disapproval, but reluctantly swore the oath.

"Okay." Fiyero motioned her closer. Slowly, he bent down and whispered in her ear. "I didn't exactly escort him completely out of Kiamo-Ko."

Elphaba froze. Her entire body stiffened. For a moment, she didn't even breathe. "HE'S STILL HERE?" She hissed at him, quivering with the effort it took to keep her promise.

Seeing her obvious displeasure, Fiyero did quite well keeping the grin off his face. Only a slight twitch at the corners of his mouth, and the twinkle in his eye betrayed his inward amusement. So, face placid, he nodded. "Yes," he answered simply. "Should I make an appointment?"

Elphaba made a face, her dark eyes flashing in the dim light of the glowstones bracketed to the wall. Reaching up, she delivered a sharp flick to the side of Fiyero's nose, and continued pacing.

"I'll take that as a no?"

"Darn right," Elphaba answered.

"Well, how about I sleep on it, you pace on it, and tomorrow, we'll decide if we should let him go or not."

Elphaba stopped in her tracks once more. "Let him… go?"

Fiyero stared at her as if she were daft. " You didn't really think that I'd just let the former Wizard of Oz, enemy of all you ever stood for, run around wherever he wanted down here, did you? Goodness, Elphaba, you must think I'm really stupid."

"Well," Elphaba said, a minute smile overtaking her stern expression, "not really stupid."

"Granted." Fiyero nodded resignedly, and then turned to leave. "If we leave for the search in two days, spend two days looking, we can go see Oz on the fifth day if necessary, when I bring him his breakfast. How's that?"

"You feed him?" Elphaba said, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, dear, you are the wicked one, not me."

'Glad to see you remember something,' Elphaba thought. She immediately chastised herself, then bid the Scarecrow goodnight aloud.

Elphaba caught sight of Fiyero, peeking his head back through the doorframe, and read his lips when he mouthed 'I love you'.

She gazed at him fondly for a moment, then blew him a kiss. This was going to be a long handful of days. She'd begin the preparations come morning.

xxxx

"You're absolutely sure about this?"

"Absolutely," said Elphaba.

"Positively?"

"Positively."

"One hundred percent?"

Elphaba scowled and pointed roughly to the broom floating in a near-by corner. "Just get on, will you?"

Grumbling her many protestations, Glinda grabbed the object of their discussion by the handle, and held it out vertically in front of her. Elphaba reached out and twisted the broom until it was horizontal, flat, and able to be mounted.

"That's how you do it. Now, get on."

Glinda eyed the wooden shaft with distaste for a moment before sitting gingerly atop it.

"You can't sit on it like that. You'll be riding sideways."

Glinda just stared at her. She could ride sideways if she wanted to.

"You have to put one leg on each side… not both on the same side."

Now it was Glinda's turn to raise an eyebrow. Elphie couldn't possibly expect her to straddle a wooden stick and float all over the castle. It just wouldn't be proper. She hadn't even wanted to ride the stupid thing in the first place, but Elphaba had insisted. She had given a long list of reasons why it 'would be wise' for Glinda to learn, none of which she really paid attention to, until her friend mentioned stairs. She mentioned that one could fly up and even down the stairs, if one practiced enough to land on a two-foot wide ledge (which was far too small for a bubble landing). That little tidbit of information was the only reason Glinda was being even remotely cooperative, and only because she never, ever, ever, wanted to climb up that many stairs again. Ever.

"Did you hear what I said?" Elphaba demanded.

"Yes… I was ignoring you." Glinda said with a smirk.

With a scowl, Elphie jabbed her finger into the small of Glinda's back.

Glinda let out a squeal and arched backwards, trying to relieve the pressure on her spine. Elphie removed her finger. With a flurry of arms, she toppled backwards, landing on the floor with a thud, her legs still propped up by the broom. "Ow." The room spun around her. She moaned, pushed herself into a sitting position, and glared petulantly at Elphaba.

Ugh, fine.

Pouting just enough for effect, Glinda mounted the broom, this time grasping it Elphie's way. Though she'd never admit it, of course, she felt much more stable. She even dared to lift her feet off the floor this time. She hovered there for a moment, feeling a swelling sense of pride at her accomplishments. Elphie should be congratulating her any time now… any time. Finally, she glanced to her friend. "Well?"

"Well what?" Standing off to the side of the cavernous room, Elphie gestured upwards to the high, vaulted ceiling. "Fly."

That really didn't help much.

"And I'm to go about doing that how?" She inquired, resisting the urge to plant her hands firmly on her hips.

Elphie paused for a moment, thinking, apparently. Glinda waited. And waited. After what seemed like eons, Elphaba just shrugged, and offered a somewhat cryptic answer, which didn't cure Glinda's puzzlement.

"You just… fly," she said. "There really isn't anything else I can tell you."

Oh gee, that was even less than unhelpful.

Glinda supposed she could see what Elphie meant though, if she thought about it really hard (something she was not exactly prone to do often). There were no levers, or buttons, or reigns, or anything of the like, so you really did 'just fly'. Maybe shifting your weight a little back and forth would help in steering, but other than that, there wasn't much to tell.

"You just… fly?" She repeated dubiously, just to make sure she hadn't missed anything important. Like actual instructions.

Elphie nodded, and Glinda resigned herself to her fate. Oh well, at least the room was big enough. Once a huge underground cave, the builders hadn't bothered to partition it off for separate rooms. Used for storage over the ages, the room was sparsely decorated, if a few colourful yet simple tribal paintings could be classified as decoration.

Fiyero had spent most of the morning working for them to prepare the cavernous room for flying lessons. He cleared anything hard out of the way, and piled them against the walls in surprisingly organized piles of junk. That, in turn, allowed Elphaba and Glinda to come in with mounds of cloth, pillows, rags, mattresses, and the like, and dump them over the hard granite floor to soften it in case of an accident. They had done such a good job that Glinda was almost planning to go along with the lessons willingly. Almost.

A few more ways to avoid the inevitable crossed her mind, but Glinda figured she might as well get on with it. She had given Elphie enough strife for the time being.

"Well, here we go," she muttered, more for herself then for anyone else. She grit her teeth, squeezed her eyes shut, and prepared a nice little speech that someone (probably Elphaba) would have to make, in the event she didn't come out of this room alive. Mentally, she recited it.

'Dearly Beloved,' an appropriate beginning, she figured, ' we are gathered here today in memoriam of Miss Glinda Upland, more familiarly known as Glinda the Good, the Good Witch of Oz, the Witch of the North, or just Your Goodness. An outstanding person in general, Glinda's death was ill timed-' she might have to revise that, as Glinda didn't think her death would be good at any time, ' and tragic.' Tragic was quite applicable.

That was all she had so far.

She was beginning to wonder how anyone could recite such a beautiful speech should she die before passing it along, but was interrupted by a sharp, painful rap on her noggin. She let out a little yelp, and slapped her hand to her head. "Ow, Elphie, what did you do that for?"

She heard no answer but a quiet snicker, which soon gave way to a highly amused chuckle. Glinda's eyes popped open of their own accord the moment she realized that Elphaba's laughter was, of all places, coming from below. Way below. Glinda looked up a few inches and realized that it was the ceiling that had hit her. Bordering on panicked, Glinda clung to the rough wooden handle of the broom for dear life.

"Don't worry!" Elphaba shouted up, "by the end of the day you'll be a professional!"

"Since you've mastered sarcasm, how about working on sympathy."

"This is me being sympathetic, Glinda. Fly."

Leaning ever so slightly toward the handle, the broom crawled slowly forward. Exhilarated at her progress, she leaned further forward, trying to get down, and promptly crashed right into the wall.

She hated flying.

xxx

Elphie and Fiyero stood at the bottom of the mountain, sheltered from the torrential downpour beneath the large Quoxwod tree that he and Glinda had met under only a few scant days ago. Today, he had ridden down with Elphaba on the broom, where-as Glinda opted for the bubble approach. She hadn't exactly been keen to fly, after her little meeting with the wall.

"Well, I guess this is where we part ways."

"I guess so," Fiyero answered, taking Elphie's hands into his own. He had always marvelled at how his hands dwarfed hers, and thinking such, clasped hers to his heart in a tender gesture that made her blush a deeper green. He gazed into her fathomless eyes, and sent a longing prayer heavenwards, wishing he could feel her gentle touch as she traced his jawline with her lithe finger.

The rich complexion of her smooth emerald skin, accented by her dark hair, set him trembling, even in such dim light as the early morning provided. It wasn't even the exotic beauty of her sharply angled face, the soft curves of her lips, or the gentle sweep of her brow that drew him to her so (though he wouldn't have traded anything about her for the world) but her mere presence, and the simple little details that made Elphaba totally unique.

He lost himself in the way she stood: shoulders thrown back, head tilted slightly to the right, long arms folded across her chest. She haunted his every thought, down to the minute quirks that defined who she was. Her smirk, made complete by the raising of her left eyebrow to balance the upward curve of the right side of her mouth. He adored the way her dark brows drew together when angry, and the way she beamed whenever she looked at him, even in such a form as a man of straw… all this made him ache with the desire to be his best for her, and ache with the knowledge that he was powerless to do so.

When he looked at her, bathed in dim moonlight and shadow, he was made acutely aware of his condition. He wondered if Elphaba felt the same way about herself when she felt his eyes upon her. She shouldn't though, she was everything he could ever want. She was one of a kind, and not just because of her colour. She was perfect.

And apparently, it was this Grimmerie thing they were all looking for that kept him from being perfect for her. Fiyero leaned in to plant a soft, lingering kiss on her forehead, then drew up to his full height. He stole a glance over to Glinda, who was standing a few meters away, and attempting not to look as impatient as she evidently was.

Fiyero decided to share one of the doubts on his mind. "Do you really think it's wise, heading back to the Emerald City? I mean, there are tons of other places to search," he said, attention back on Elphaba. Not that he could keep it off her for long.

She seemed a little agitated at his question, probably because the same worry had been plaguing her. She shook her head. "It's not wise, but it's necessary."

"Is it?" Fiyero said again, more out of a reflex concern for Elphaba's safety than anything else. She stiffened at his sharp retort, and gently pulled away from him.

"Yes it is." She stared into his face. Her action unnerved him, and he felt unable to meet her gaze out of shame.

"Don't you trust me?"

"Of course!" he said. "I just don't want anything to happen to you." Life would hardly be worth living without her.

Despite his doubts, she gazed at him with a sparkle of tender amusement in her eyes. "Blows are fleeting, Fiyero. There isn't anything they can do to keep me away from you for long. Plus, Glinda will beat the first person who crosses her path over the head with her high and mighty status."

"So there's really nothing to worry about, is that what you're saying?" he asked disbelievingly.

Elphie chuckled at that, slightly. "No, that's not what I'm saying. I said you don't have to worry about me making it back safely. There's plenty to worry about besides that." She eyed him with a calculated stare, then added as an afterthought, "You do look rather dashing when you worry, you know."

"Oh, really?" Fiyero drew his brows together and jutted his lower lip out into what possibly could have resembled an exaggerated worried expression, but looked more like someone suffering from a bowel disorder.

Elphaba made a face. She shook her head slowly, and then passed her hand in front of her eyes as if to dismiss a painful memory. "Can you do me a favour?"

Never do that again?" Fiyero guessed.

Elphie looked up, a totally feigned expression of shock plastered upon her face. " A prince and a mind-reader? Ladies and gentlemen, we see before us the stuff of legends."

"We do," said Fiyero, staring at her, "but I'm not looking at myself."

Elphaba blushed, and embraced him tightly. He stood there, smiling at the way she ignored the raindrops as they splattered down upon her. Her aversion to water was gone, at least when she was with him. After a few minutes, Fiyero spoke again, this time rather reluctantly. "I better get going."

"Be careful."

Fiyero promised he would, and without another word, set off.

xxxxx

"It never gets easier, does it?"

Elphaba ducked beneath the Quoxwood tree, where they could discuss matters further without fear of a soaking. "What doesn't?"

"Saying goodbye to the man you love." Glinda said. Fiyero was quickly vanishing from sight down a distant road, a dark silhouette against the bleak greyness of the early morning.

"We didn't say goodbye. We'll only be apart a couple of days at most." Elphie wished her heart would listen to her words; maybe then it would stop pounding in her ears.

"But it never gets easy, does it? It's still hard to watch him walk away, or to walk away yourself. Even if it's only for a moment…"

Glinda was right. Elphaba knew that right away, but didn't want to admit it quite yet. She felt like playing the devil's advocate for a little while. "He's invulnerable, Glinda."

"You're not."

The blow struck home. Elphaba's eyes narrowed. What was her friend trying to achieve by asking these questions? There had to be a motive, somewhere. "I'm not a survey, Glinda. What are you getting at?"

Glinda averted her eyes to the boom, which was leaned up against the trunk of the tree. "Nothing," she said. "We should get going." She reached for the broom.

Elphaba beat her to it, and snatched it from its resting place with a 'hah!' of triumph. Glinda made a few ineffective swipes at it, but the green girl held it just out of reach. "Not until you tell me what's eating you. I'm not in the mood for guessing games."

Glinda sighed, and then relented. "What if one day you said good-bye, and went somewhere… and never got to see him again?"

Good question. Not quite the straight-forward 'this is what is bothering me' answer Elphaba was looking for, but a good, thought-provoking question. Maybe this was more serious than Elphaba had originally anticipated. In any case, she had the feeling that this discussion was no longer about her and Fiyero.

"If that happened, Lurline forbid," she said, slowly, "I'd remember the time we did have together, and be thankful… I suppose."

It was a doubt not altogether unfamiliar to Elphaba, but one which she had avoided putting an answer to if at all possible. Ideally, what she had just said would be true, but one could never really tell how they'd react to so devastating a loss until it actually happened. She certainly wasn't planning on putting herself to the test any time soon.

"Wh-" Glinda paused, and for the first time since their rather thought provoking Q-and-A session started, met Elphaba's gaze. Her blue eyes were wide and fearful, and she spoke in a halting whisper, as if afraid to voice her opinion lest it become reality."What if you never had any time? What if he never knew you loved him, and couldn't love you back even if he did?"

Now Elphaba definitely knew this was not about her and Fiyero.

"Why haven't you told him?" To be blunt, fear of rejection had never stopped Glinda from voicing her opinions before. She had practically engaged herself to Fiyero without his consent, so why was this different?

" I- I just, I guess…. I wasn't sure if he- was the one."

Elphaba stared at her."You're sure now though?"

Glinda nodded.

After a moment of quiet deliberation, Elphaba spoke. "Come on then, we're going to Gillikin. You're more important then some ratty old book anyways."

The conclusion she had come to had not been an easy one, as it meant time lost on the all-important search. But as Glinda's face illuminated in response to the compassion shown, Elphaba knew it was the right course of action.

"Oh Elphie," Glinda said, "I couldn't ask you to do that for me!"

"I know," Elphaba said, "that's what makes me so nice."

The attempt at humour was lost to Glinda, who looked about to explode with glee. "There's only one thing," she cautioned as she hopped onto the broom behind Elphaba.

Elphaba kicked off, and began to speed northwards. "What's that?" She asked.

"You're going the wrong way. He's not Gilikinese, exactly."

"What do you mean, exactly?"

"He's a Munchkinlander."

That simple comment nearly caused Elphaba to fall from her broom. She never thought she'd see the day that Glinda Upland of the Upper Uplands confess love to a Munchkinlander. She halted the broom in mid-air, craning her neck around to stare at Glinda. "You're serious?"

Glinda nodded.

Elphaba cleared her throat and shrugged. "Well, that's that. Where will we find him?"

"Elphie…"

Uh-oh. Glinda was gearing up to let her know something really important.

"It's Boq."

Elphaba's jaw went slack. " Boq? As in metal, me-hating, Nessarose- Boq?"

"Yes, that Boq."

"Two years ago you couldn't even remember his name." Elphaba said.

"Yes, that Boq." Glinda said again, a little more firmly this time, and blushing.

Well, that was an unexpected development.

"When did this happen?"

"Since forever, really," Glinda said. Elphaba's eye brow rose a couple of inches. "But mostly last night," she added hurriedly. "I was thinking…."

Elphaba didn't know her eyebrow could move any higher, but it did.

Glinda continued, undaunted. "…about you and Fiyero. I realized, Elphie, that I had never loved anyone or had anyone love me like you two love each other."

"You'll find someone, Glinda," Elphaba assured her.

"That's the thing. I already have! It came to me while I was pondering, that I have had my knight before me for years… it just took until he put on his shining armour for me to realize it."

"That's incredibly sweet and thoughtful of you, Glinda, but you've hardly spoken to the man. How can you know this isn't just a fling of some sort?"

"I care about him. Deeply. I care that my office is messy when he comes by, or that he drives me crazy with his adherence to the rules… or that he doesn't love me back."

After pondering Glinda's words, Elphaba nodded, and turned the broom to face towards the center of Oz. It was convenient, at least, that Boq was there. Now their detour to visit him would be in the same general area as their mission. The cool morning breeze whipped into a gale as the broom sprang to life, soaring onwards to the place it all began. First stop, Shiz University, then once more to the Emerald City.


	8. Chapter 8: Veiled Intentions

It was difficult to comprehend the incredible ease with which Glinda could achieve her every whim. All she had to do was wave her hand, and throngs of people leapt to her side, offering their services. People believed whatever she told them, did whatever she asked them… including letting Elphaba and herself into Shiz University without a qualm. It was almost laughable. No, it was definitely laughable. For her at least. Elphie didn't seem to be enjoying it quite so much.

"How are you holding up under there?" Glinda inquired.

Elphaba took the advantage of the lack of people near her to send a venomous glare in Glinda's direction, practically boring a hole through her from beneath the hood of a heavy black cloak.

" Well," she began, " besides the oppressive heat, the fact I have to walk constantly with a fake limp, hide my face, and answer to the name 'Sister Fabala', all of which I blame you for, everything's just peachy, thanks."

Well, someone was in a bad mood.

"You agreed to the plan." Glinda reminded her, trying not to irk her friend too much more.

Elphaba grumbled. She knew it was true.

Said plan had been fairly simple: Disguise Elphie, search for spellbook. The second part being their objective, the first a simple necessity. The disguising part had proven to be a problem easily remedied, but only a floor length cloak with a hood large enough to cover Elphaba's face would do the job. Having green skin was definitely a limiting factor for creative disguise when one was hated by nearly all the folk in the land. They had tested different fabrics, but had eventually decided that a course, heavy material would suit their needs best. Hence the roasting heat.

Elphaba, now completely hidden from view beneath swaths of thick, black cloth, would accompany Glinda under the façade of 'Sister Fabala' ( Glinda came up with that name herself, thank you very much). The 'Sister' was a nun who was thinking of heading and teaching an ethics class at the University. Her first love had been gardening ( Glinda had wanted fishing, but that was where Elphaba drew the line), but a terrible accident that not only left her with a severe limp but disfigured her face (explaining the cloak and hood) forced her to give gardening up, and turn to bettering Oz-kind with her wisdom, rather than her tomatoes and hydrangeas. It was… mostly foolproof.

Glinda felt it was going fairly well so far though, despite the pathetic story-line accompanying Elphaba.

"And what is wrong with the name Sister Fabala?" Glinda demanded. "It's very similar to Elphaba. In fact, so much, it could easily have been your nickname, had I thought of it sooner than Elphie."

"Yes, but Elphie is my nickname, and I have barely room for one. Honestly Glinda…. Fabala?"

Glinda made no reply to Elphie's protest. In fact, she had actually chosen the name for a couple of reasons. One: if she actually slipped up and said Elphaba's real name, 'Fabala' was close enough to the original not to cause much of a dilemma. It could easily be taken as a slip of the tongue.

Two: She just knew it would bug Elphaba to the ends of Oz.

"Oh Sister Fabala! Miss Glinda!" The new Shiz-mistress, Lady Druscilla something or other (Glinda had never been that great with names) called from the library. She had a very high and exceedingly annoying sing-song voice, a short, twig-like body, and a head that looked entirely too big for her. She wore a gigantic poofy green and gold dress, had her reddish-brownish hair piled atop her head in a large pile held together by tacky hair-pins, and wore much too much makeup. This of course, was all Glinda's opinion… but when it came to fashion, her opinion was law.

"Coming!" Glinda replied, in an equally sing-song voice, and promptly dragged Elphie by the wrist down the hall and into the doorway of the substantial library.

The moment they stepped through the threshold, Druscilla raised her spindly arms to the ceiling, and proclaimed dramatically, "Welcome to the pride and joy of Shiz University…" then paused for effect, " The library!"

D'uh. She had been here before… just not often.

Despite her years spend here, Glinda probably hadn't been inside this room more than a handful of times. The sight before her nearly took her breath away.

What this library lacked in sheer size (which wasn't much. Only the Great Gilikinese Library, and the Emerald City Library were larger.) it more than compensated with style. She had forgotten how nice it was in here.

Big as most average houses, the first floor of the circular library was the resting place of thousands of books of every sort. It had hardwood flooring in the centre, which was filled with elegant wooden desks and comfortable chairs in the emerald and gold colour scheme that prevailed throughout the room. Around the edges of the floor, more green and gold made itself known by way of carpeting, offering a comfortable stand for those searching the high shelves for reading materials.

The second floor was accessible by a grand staircase, which branched off both left and right to become a sort of circular balcony that spanned the room. The next floor was reached in a similar way, with a nearly identical staircase, and so on, and so forth, until the ceiling. The walls were lined with book all the way around, and up. In addition, the library had a sizable collection of important, antique, rare, or even dangerous books.

These were kept in a tower-like bookshelf situated directly in the middle of the floor. It rose all the way from the ground level to the tenth and highest floor. Winding around it like a snake, a solid iron staircase made such books accessible, if one could get past the impenetrable defence. Such a defence was a fine golden mesh, unable to be broken, climbed, penetrated, set on fire, or anything of the like, and was only opened by a key carried on the headmistress's person at all times.

All told, the library was quite the spectacle.

Glinda caught herself wishing she had spent more time in the library with Elphie, who had practically lived in the place.

"Lady Druscilla," Glinda started, only to be cut off by-

"Just Druscilla, please, Miss Glinda."

Glinda turned, her angelic smile lighting the room with practiced luminescence. "You may call me… Glinda, then."

Druscilla squealed with excitement.

Elphaba disguised a snort of laughter by beginning a feigned coughing fit beneath her cloak. "How generous of you both," she muttered, only loud enough for Glinda to hear.

"Pardon me, Sister Fabala. Or may I call you Fabala?"

Glinda watched with amusement as Elphaba bristled at Druscilla's question. She knew how chafed her friend would be, and was quite shocked at the answer her friend gave… or rather that she managed not to bite anyone's head off while giving it.

"Sister Fabala will be quite appropriate, thank-you."

Druscilla was a little miffed at the answer, but otherwise seemed unaffected at Elphaba's stern tone of voice.

Glinda guessed that the headmistress was one of those constantly cheery people, who never thought anything bad about anyone, maybe to a fault. How she ever managed to give stern lectures to rowdy students was a mystery to Glinda even larger than how the Lady managed to become headmistress in the first place. Still, she seemed to be fending all right: the school hadn't burned down yet.

"Well," said Druscilla, after showing Elphaba and Glinda around the library a little, " that concludes our tour."

"I will contact you next week, in the event I want to take the post. If you don't hear from me, it has been a pleasure meeting you, and I wish you all the best." Elphaba managed quite civilly.

Glinda curtseyed and gestured for Elphaba to do the same, who did so, albeit a bit stiffly because of her supposed limp. "Yes, thank so much for showing us around personally, and for letting us have private use of this library for so much time as is needed."

"Oh, it's an honour, Glinda," the headmistress replied, giggling again and grinning in a juvenile way at saying Glinda's name without the honorific. She covered her mouth lightly with her hand and muttered (seemingly to herself) "Wait until I tell Lusey about this!"

Goodness, the lady was flighty. Cue Elphaba.

"One more thing, Lady Druscilla," Elphaba called out as the other turned to leave.

Right on time. Glinda took over from there. "Oh yes, thank you ever so much for reminding me, Sister Fabala. Druscilla, I find myself in need of a more… specialized branch of the library. Official business, you know. If I may?" Glinda held out her hand, and nodded kindly when Druscilla placed the key in it. She nearly giggled. She found it mind-numbing. She could get things even more easily then when she had been in Shiz the last time.

After a moment longer of polite thanks and small talk on all fronts, Druscilla left, leaving Glinda and Elphaba all alone to conduct their search. All windows were shuttered, and the two made their way to the tall central pillar of restricted books.

"That was well conducted, Glinda. You almost made it sound like you cared about that infernal woman."

"Well, you know," Glinda said, flipping her hair a few times (without the 'toss toss' which she had all-but abandoned after graduation), "politics are the most important part of acting." She held out the key to Elphaba. "Shall we?"

"We shall."

There was no lock that Glinda could see, but Elphaba had evidently been into this section before, and knew how to work the contraption. She shoved the key deeply into the mesh, which seemed to writhe like a living being, swirling and contorting around the key. The golden mesh soon began to part, each strand separating from its intricate weaving, and splitting into three great wires, which in turn braided themselves together, and vanished with a large 'pop'.

Glinda made an effort to look unamused. In truth, she was bug-eyed, and her jaw practically rested on her chest. "That was… interesting."

Elphaba smirked, checked that no one was nearby, and flipped her hood down. "Indeed. Now, to the top."

Glinda looked up, and moaned. Ten floors of doom lay above her. "I think I'm going to have a stair-a-phobia relapse."

Elphaba just continued smirking.

xxxxx

"Grimmerie: A Beginner's Guide.' 'The Grimmerie: A Comprehensive History.' 'The Life and Times of the Wizard of Oz, and the Finding of the Grimmerie.' 'Grimmerie: An In-depth Analysis.'… okay, I believe you. It exists. Can we please stop now?"

Elphaba glanced back at Glinda, who was lagging behind under the weight of a plethora of heavy books Elphaba had piled in her arms.

"Not yet," she explained, " I need as much material as I can get."

"Don't you think you're pushing just a bit with 'Grimmerie, a novel of Oz'?" Glinda demanded as Elphaba loaded such a book onto the already massive pile.

"Truthfully, I just added that one to increase your misery." That was for 'Fabala' and the cloak.

Ignoring Glinda's growl of irritation, Elphaba replaced the book on the shelf, and continued loading Glinda's arms, this time with the magazines, newspaper articles, and a few other loose-leaf papers she happened to come across on the first and final floor. She left the central pillar, and stared up through the centre of the ten floors at the ceiling, examining the murals with a tender look of kinship. They had been old friends, those pictures and her. Sometimes, her only friends.

Especially during the first few months here at Shiz, Elphaba hardly left the library, except for classes, meals, and when she was forcibly expelled, and sentenced to the living hell that was sharing a room with Glinda Upland. Usually, with a stack of books beneath her arm, she'd traverse to the highest level of the library, a place people rarely bothered to visit. She'd move to the railings, and look down upon all the different people mulling about. She'd watch them, they who spoke only spite between her back, they who jeered at her as they went past… they who plagued her, and forced her up here.

She would put her hand to the ceiling, and trace the contours of the beautiful paintings. Then she'd speak. Paintings never argued, never laughed at her, they only listened. Her every fear, every desire, had soaked into those ceilings for nearly her entire first year at Shiz. Even when she had met Glinda, she had never really been able to tell her the things she whispered to the silence that met her so comfortingly upon the tenth floor of that library. Maybe it was crazy, talking to a roof… but it had gotten her through the tough times, so she was content to be crazy.

Glinda stepped down onto the ground floor with a long moan, demanding Elphaba's attention without meaning to.

"Now do you see why I insisted in starting from the tenth floor, and making our way down?" Elphaba asked, catching sight of Glinda's pained look.

Glinda grunted, then spoke. "Yes, because I would have staged a rebellion if you had made me carry those blasted books up the stairs. Goodness knows I came close…"

Elphaba stared at Glinda, quite amused. She refused to let her face mirror such a thing. "Oh, stop your whining. We both know perfectly well that you could have spelled them in any number of ways to make life easier on yourself."

Glinda stared at Elphaba, her face turning slowly red with irritation. "Why didn't you tell me that before?" She demanded loudly, and without warning, chucked a gigantic book at her friend's head. Taken aback at such a sudden display of animosity, Elphaba had little time to do anything but shield her face.

The blow she had been expecting never came.

The book bounced harmlessly off her forearms, and drifted to her feet with the approximate speed and mass of a downy feather. Oh.

Elphaba stared at Glinda, who was nearly doubled up in silent laughter. The stack had been spelled the entire time.

"I got you there," Glinda proclaimed, glee written all over her face.

Elphaba opened her mouth to protest, but was cut off by Glinda.

"Don't deny it. You know it's true." Glinda flipped her hair skillfully, loaded as she was with an enormous pile of feather light books. "I'm sorry all your misery-increasing attempts were in vain."

Well, it was certainly more than a little annoying to have been thwarted, especially by Glinda (who would never let the story die, not in a million years), but Elphaba just shrugged it off. "I guess I can forgive you," Elphaba muttered. "You did, after all, manage to get rid of Druscilla. Honestly, I don't know how you can deal with people like that."

Glinda stared meaningfully at Elphaba, looking thoughtful, which was slightly worrying. After a moment, her blue eyes glinting with tears, Glinda said, "You did. You dealt with me."

It was quite touching, really. Still, the oppourtunity was calling, and never one to let such a thing pass by, Elphaba took the emotional moment to return the favour Glinda had lent her, and sent the heavy looking book hurtling, or rather floating, back to Glinda. War erupted. The room became a blizzard of books and papers, all drifting around and fluttering like so many great birds. After about a quarter of an hour it ended, no person or books any worse for the wear. Only one thing plagued Elphaba as she flipped the hood over her face, and hobbled out beside Glinda. She felt awfully bad for the janitors.

xxxx

Life was nothing more than a miserable existence from which Boq was unable to escape. He didn't despair at the thought, nor was it rooted in depression. He just knew it as a fact, and that was the simple truth.

Every day droned on in strict regularity. The void left by emotions, he had minimized as much as possible by routine. If nothing different ever happened, if every day was the same, Boq had no good reason to feel anything at all, and in return, didn't miss it. In theory, it should have worked. It was, after all, people's emotions that usually got in the way. He had none, so why in Oz shouldn't he have been able to keep a steady head when Glinda spoke to him that day? He didn't feel anything for her; he couldn't feel anything for her. All they had between them was a long-abandoned past. Any adoration he once reserved her for had boiled down to loyalty and respect. She did her job, he did his. In theory.

When he had gazed into her gorgeous sapphire eyes, he could see clearly that she held some sort of special emotion for him. Such a thing wasn't logical. Why now of all times would she choose to place her affections on him of all people, when she knew perfectly well that he had nothing to give her? All he could offer her now was protection.

Knowing that, Boq had thrown himself into his job, body and mind. With only two hours a day reserved for his own leisure (which usually consisted of training and thinking) Boq spent as much time on duty as he possibly could. He had no other life, and had wanted no other until the day Glinda had asked him for his forgiveness… and stirred up some long dormant… something. What it was she had done to bring him so agonizingly close to emotion, he wasn't sure. All he knew was that since that day she haunted his every waking moment.

Even if Glinda had taken to physically stalking him around the castle, it hardly seemed he could think of her more.

Beneath the radiance of the bright noon-day sun, he reflected only upon just how pleasingly her golden curls would shine, should she be standing at his side. Staring into the gleaming fountains of the palace courtyard only brought pictures of her welcome smile. Each dress that any visitor wore could only have been made complete should Glinda be wearing it instead.

Glinda would have liked to have seen the sunset, or Glinda would have found the humidity perfect for her hair, or Glinda much preferred his blue uniform over his green.

Such thoughts came unbidden, though not entirely unwelcome.

Most frightening of all to Boq, above and beyond he could (or would) do nothing about his mind's infatuation with the girl of his former desiring, was that his former desiring wasn't quite as former as he would have liked to think. True, when the episodes of uncalled for imaginings had begun, the Tin Man observed them with as little interest as possible. They were absolutely true facts, that Glinda happened to have eyes like the summer sky, or that she would have enjoyed being present at the latest gathering of dignitaries… but they had been nothing but facts. Now those seemed to be the only facts that mattered in the world.

He wore the blue uniform because Glinda liked it. He observed the summer sky because it reminded him strongly of Glinda's eyes. He stared at the fountains, if only to catch a glimpse of her smile. It was completely flawed logic, he knew! Yet, he still participated in such actions. It was a madness he could not bear to live without.

Glinda was ultimately more important to him than anything else. He understood this, rather than felt (as so many were apt to do). Boq just utterly comprehended that Miss Upland was such a crucial part of his very existence that his very world should collapse lest she depart from it. The very idea sent a wave of tension through his body. Slowly, the star of emotion was creeping up on Boq, and here he stood at the dawning.

Actually, Boq stood in the gymnasium.

The remains of a cloth dummy lay in tatters at his feet, shredded mercilessly beneath the cold steel of his blade. He had perhaps gotten a little ahead of himself in efficiency this afternoon. Sheathing the rapier and placing it next to the other swords (Boq had mastered all forms of the blade) the Tin man took his navy blue jacket from the hook he had hung it on, and strolled out of the training area and on towards the outer perimeter of the palace grounds. His crisp steady gait carried him into the main gardens before five minutes had passed.

Everything proved secure until two figures, one cloaked, the other bedecked in a pale blue dress and veil, came literally flying over the wall on a broomstick.

Boq's hand slipped instinctively to his left hip, and grasped at the hilt of his sword. His fingers closed on air. With a sudden clarity of mind, the captain of the guard recalled that during his preoccupation with his own tumultuous thoughts, he had neglected to belt a weapon around his waist before leaving the gymnasium. He would have to swing by later in the afternoon to remedy his mishap.

Boq watched the two figures slip away, and immediately broke into a jog to close the distance between him and them. He nearly stopped dead when his sharp hearing caught snippets of the conversation the two were having.

The cloaked woman's voice was a soft alto tone, easily distinguishable from the higher soprano of the second.

"Do you really think this is a good idea? You know, there are other ways of attracting his attention besides breaking into the palace." That was evidently the first woman speaking.

"Yes, there are other ways," the second countered, " but this is the easiest, the most assured."

"And the riskiest. Someone could easily shoot and ask questions later, you know." The first seemed less than enthusiastic about whatever scheme the two were plotting.

"Oh Elphaba, don't be such a wet blanket," the second complained.

The steady pace Boq had kept as he trailed a fair distance behind them suddenly faltered when he heard that name. The toe of his black leather boot caught a tree root, and sent him sprawling on his face. He recovered, but not before his clanking joints alerted the Wicked Witch to his presence in the garden. Boq ducked behind a tall hedge.

"What was that?" the Witch asked her companion.

"I didn't hear anything."

"Shh… come on."

At that, Boq should have moved. Everything in his head screamed for it, but he found himself an inattentive listener. Instead, he drew a razor sharp switchblade from his boot, and clutched it tightly. He knew that he would stand no chance against someone so purely evil as the witch, so evil as to be rejected by death itself, but he would not be denied his chance for vengeance.

The crunching sound of footsteps on the gravel path drew nearer, and not planning to wait for the witch to set him under a spell, he acted.

"Don't come any closer!" He ordered authoritatively, holding the knife out before him, and pointing it at the witch. Why is it, he wondered cynically, that I always combat evil with a weapon under six inches long?

The witch glanced up and Boq could see her beady black eyes glittering from the shadow of her heavy black hood. The depth of her hatred for him ran so deeply she looked almost amused at his attempts to fend her off. She looked at his small knife, and stared at him as if he had misplaced his mind.

"I'm not going to hurt you Boq," she said softly. The witch lowered her hood, and looked deeply into his eyes, searching for something. She was obviously attempting some ploy to lull him into a false sense of security. That was when she would spring her trap.

Boq let out a mirthless laugh. He didn't believe a thing, and he made sure she knew it. "Do you really expect me to trust you? After what you did to me?"

Looking thouroughly annoyed, the witch sighed and shook her head. "It's not what you think, Boq."

"And how do you know what I think?"

"You of all people should be able to comprehend logical reasoning."

"You have emotions, your logic is compromisational."

The Witch rolled her eyes. "It seems your good sense deserted you the along with your heart. Let me repeat: No, it's not what you think. I'm not out for revenge. I'm not looking to boobytrap Glinda's office, and I'm not a ghost. I think that about covers it."

Boq narrowed his eyes, taking a halting step backwards. "Liar."

"I don't respond well to unjust accusations," the witch warned, venom dripping from every word.

Despite his better judgment (he didn't seem to be listening to that much lately), Boq scowled, and spat at her feet. "I don't respond well to threats," he retorted.

"Neither do I." Rage flashed in the Witch's eyes, and as she took a step forward towards Boq, the veiled woman spoke for the first time.

"Elphaba," she warned, "you promised to control yourself."

The Witch froze, and directed an acidic glare towards the other woman, before moving a few meters away to continue her silent fuming.

The veiled woman now took centre stage. Boq's knife swung towards her for a brief second, before returning to the greater threat, the witch.

"She's not wicked," the veiled one said calmly.

"Oh, really? I suppose she's retired her personality." The sarcasm in his tone was unmistakable.

"Boq… you don't understand." As the veiled woman stepped forward, Boq's steely gaze met hers and he felt himself lost in a swirling sea of blue… like the summer sky.

For the second time that afternoon, he stumbled. Tripping over himself in his haste to retreat a few steps, Boq dropped the knife, point down into the grass. "Glinda? Wh- why are you with her?"

"She's my friend. She always has been… except for when I hated her." Glinda gazed at Boq with the beginnings of tears in her eyes. "You just don't understand."

"You're right," Boq agreed, "I don't. How could you be friends with her after all the things she's done?" His tone turned slightly accusing.

"Boq," Glinda said tenderly, "Elphie saved your life."

"You call this a life?" He asked, gesturing to his face. Being metal and heartless wasn't a life.

"I don't call it dead," she responded.

"What do you mean she saved my life? Nessa said-"

"I don't care what Nessa said. Listen to what I say. Elphie saved your life. Without her, you'd be dead. Nessa shrunk your heart, Boq."

Boq didn't know what to believe. On the one hand, it was Glinda who was telling him this, but on the other hand, Glinda was not only in league with the greatest enemy Oz had ever seen to some degree, but was still friendly with her. So, either the Wizard was lying, or Glinda was. Or, perhaps the Witch magicified Glinda. Boq opted for the third one. He had believed in both Glinda and the Wizard too long to just accept the corruption of either of them. There was only one way he could get the answers.

Boq moved quickly. Plucking the knife from the ground, he dashed to the green woman, traversing the short distance between them within the blink of an eye. He pressed the knife up against her throat.

"What have you done to Glinda, Witch? Tell me the truth now, or you've breathed your last," he hissed in her ear. She would know that he'd have no qualms about carrying through with his threat.

"Is your complete and total lack of sense a side effect of being metal? I didn't do anything to Glinda."

"I don't believe you." He pressed the knife a little tighter to her throat.

"I don't care," the witch said angrily. As she spoke, the knife began to shimmer. Steam rolled off the blade in a constant cloud, and within a few clock-ticks, all that was left was the handle. "Don't think I can't do that to you," she warned.

"But she won't, of course," Glinda interjected hastily.

Boq backed away, hands in front of him so the Witch could see he would play no tricks. She seemed to find that an acceptable gesture, as he remained solid. "What are you doing here, then?" He asked. It was his job.

"I just needed a few things from my office," Glinda stated, before Elphaba had a chance to open her mouth.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" Boq asked.

"Look at what she's done for Oz, Boq. Do you really think she's about to destroy it and its people after all she's put into it to make it better? Use that brain you so pride yourself in." The witch did have a point… still; he couldn't decide what to make of the information swarming him all at once.

Boq turned to Glinda, directing the question to her. "How can I trust you now?" He motioned to Elphaba.

Glinda looked at him, her eyes piercing his consciousness. "I love you, Boq," she said.

Boq froze. "What?"

"I love you," she repeated. Glinda moved closer, her voice soft as she tugged off her veil. She was beautiful as ever. She loved him. After all this time, she loved him! He could almost see the world around him growing just a little bit brighter. Even the grass beneath his feet seemed more alive. She loved him.

"I- I can't love you back," he whispered, choking on the sudden emotion that flooded him for the first time since he lost his heart.

Glinda hesitated, then put her hand to his cheek. She didn't say anything for a long while, but when she spoke, his mind nearly burst with an unfamiliar feeling of sheer exhilaration. "I love you," she said, and her lips met his.

He felt horribly clumsy as he drew her in to him, and put his arms about her. Her lips were warm, and inviting, and it pained him to think how cold and hard his must have felt. He could hardly feel a thing through his thick, metal skin, and it was hard to think that his first kiss would have to run such. Somewhere, a little voice in the back of his head told him it didn't matter. She loved him. That was what mattered.

When it ended, he opened his eyes and saw Glinda standing before him, the sun dancing in her golden curls. She hardly could have been more radiant if she were the sun. He bent down, and told her such in a breathless whisper; the tenderness in his voice surprised him, and he felt an unexpected pain in his chest as she smiled at her.

"You love me back, don't you?" Glinda asked aloud, gazing up into his eyes.

"How could I not?" He responded, letting his fingers trail down her face, and along her delicate neck.

"You have no heart," she reminded him coyly, leaning against his chest and listening closely.

"It doesn't matter." It didn't. He didn't know how he loved her, but he did. "The only thing that does is that we're together right now." The pain shot through again, this time so ferociously he winced.

"Are you alright, Boq?" He bent down and kissed her hand to assure her he was. The pain nearly doubled him over this time.

"I have to go," he said, sounding calmer than he felt. "Come home soon, Glinda."

Glinda smiled at him, nodded, and pulled away from him, letting her fingers trail over his deep blue jacket. "The silver trim is very nice, Boq. I like it."

"I had hoped you would."

"Goodbye for now, Boq."

"Farewell, Glinda." Though he still wasn't quite sure about the other woman, he bowed curtly to the witch - well, to Elphaba. She returned the gesture with a brusque nod of her own, calling a truce for the moment. It didn't really matter though. Glinda loved him.

As he walked away, the left side of his chest screaming in utter agony, Boq once more heard the two women speaking.

"You were right, Elphie. It's never easy."

"What isn't?"

"Saying goodbye."


End file.
